LOUIS  TRACY 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 
Ingle  Barr 


THE   GREAT  MOGUL 


As  it  entered  the  gate  the  bar  crashed  across  its  knees. 


oul 


by 


Loins 

AutKor  of  "TKeWmbg  of  tKe  Morrvinb" 
"TKe  Pillar  of  L-igM" 


lay  J'CCK- 


NEW  YORK 

EDWARD  J-  CLODR 

156  FIFTH  AVENUE. 
19O5 


Copyright.  1905 
By  EDWARD  J.  CLODE 


The  Plimpton  Press  Norwood  Mass. 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

As  it  entered  the  gate  the  bar  crashed 

across  its  knees Frontispiece 

In  a  minute  or  less  they  were  free  ....  83 
And  that  is  the  manner  in  which  Nur  Mahal, 

on  her  wedding  night,  came  back  to  the 

Garden  of  Heart's  Delight 135 

"  If  we  go  to  Burdwan,  are  you  content  to 

remain  there?"  207 

"  Out  of  my  path,  swine !"  ....  .  284 

Instantly  the  man  was  put  to  the  test  .  .  .  294 


CHAPTER  I 

"  And  is  there  care  in  Heaven  ?  " 

Spenser's  Faerie  Queene. 

"  A  LLAH  remembers  us  not.  It  is  the  divine 
L-\  decree.  We  can  but  die  with  His  praises 

JL.  JL.  on  our  lips;  perchance  He  may  greet  us  at 
the  gates  of  Paradise!" 

Overwhelmed  with  misery,  the  man  drooped  his 
head.  The  stout  staff  he  held  fell  to  his  feet.  He 
lifted  his  hands  to  hide  the  anguish  of  eye  and  lip,  and 
the  grief  that  mastered  him  caused  long  pent-up  tears 
to  well  forth. 

His  resigned  words,  uttered  in  the  poetic  tongue  of 
Khorassan,  might  have  been  a  polished  verse  of  Sa'adi 
were  they  not  the  outpouring  of  a  despairing  heart. 
The  woman  raised  her  burning  eyes  from  the  infant 
clinging  to  her  exhausted  breast. 

"Father  of  my  loved  ones,"  she  said,  "let  you  and 
the  two  boys  travel  on  with  the  cow.  If  you  reach 
succor,  return  for  me  and  my  daughter.  If  not,  it  is 
the  will  of  God,  and  who  can  gainsay  it  ?  " 

The  man  stooped  to  pick  up  his  staff.     But  his  great 

[1] 


The  Great  Mogul 

powers  of  endurance,  suddenly  enfeebled  by  the  ordeal 
thrust  upon  him,  yielded  utterly,  and  he  sank  helpless 
by  the  side  of  his  wife. 

"Nay,  Mihr-ul-nisa,  sun  among  women,  I  shall  not 
leave  thee,"  he  cried  passionately.  "We  are  fated  to 
die;  then  be  it  so.  I  swear  by  the  Prophet  naught  save 
•death  shall  part  us,  and  that  not  for  many  hours." 

So,  to  the  mother,  uselessly  nursing  her  latest  born, 
was  left  the  woful  task  of  pronouncing  the  doom  of 
those  she  held  dear.  For  a  little  while  there  was 
silence.  The  pitiless  sun,  rising  over  distant  hills  of 
purple  and  amber,  gave  promise  that  this  day  of  late 
July  would  witness  no  relief  of  tortured  earth  by  the 
long-deferred  monsoon.  All  nature  was  still.  The 
air  had  the  hush  of  the  grave.  The  greenery  of  trees 
and  shrubs  was  blighted.  The  bare  plain,  the  rocks, 
the  boulder-strewed  bed  of  the  parched  river,  each 
alike  wore  the  dust-white  shroud  of  death.  Far-off 
mountains  shimmered  in  glorious  tints  which  promised 
fertile  glades  and  sparkling  rivulets.  But  the  promise 
was  a  lie,  the  lie  of  the  mirage,  of  unfulfilled  hope. 

These  two,  with  their  offspring,  had  journeyed  from 
the  glistening  slopes  on  the  northwest,  now  smiling 
with  the  colors  of  the  rainbow  under  the  first  kiss  of 
the  sun.  They  knew  that  the  arid  ravines  and  bleak 
passes  behind  were  even  less  hospitable  than  the  low 
lands  in  front.  Knowledge  of  what  was  past  had 
murdered  hope  for  the  future.  They  had  almost 
ceased  to  struggle.  True  children  of  the  East,  they 
were  yielding  to  Kismet.  Already  a  watchful  vulture, 

[2] 


skilled  ghoul  of  desert  obsequies,  was  describing  great 
circles  in  the  molten  sky. 

The  evils  of  the  way  were  typical  of  their  by-gone 
lives.  Beginning  in  pleasant  places,  they  were  driven 
into  the  wilderness.  The  Persian  and  his  wife,  Usbeg 
Tartars  of  Teheran,  nobly  born  and  nurtured,  were 
now  poverty-stricken  and  persecuted  because  one  of 
the  warring  divisions  of  Islam  had  risen  to  power  in 
Ispahan.  "It  shall  come  to  pass,"  said  Mahomet, 
"that  my  people  shall  be  divided  into  three-and- 
seventy  sects,  all  of  which,  save  only  one,  shall  have 
their  portion  in  the  fire!"  Clearly,  these  wanderers 
found  solace  in  the  beliefs  held  by  some  of  the  con 
demned  seventy-two. 

Striving  to  escape  from  a  land  of  narrow-minded 
bigots  to  the  realm  of  the  Great  Mogul,  the  King  of 
Kings,  the  renowned  Emperor  of  India  —  whom  his 
contemporaries,  fascinated  by  his  gifts  and  dazzled 
by  his  magnificence,  had  styled  Akbar  "the  Great'" 
—  the  forlorn  couple,  young  in  years,  endowed  with 
remarkable  physical  charms  and  high  intelligence, 
blessed  with  two  fine  boys  and  the  shapely  infant  now 
hugged  by  the  frantic  mother,  had  been  betrayed  not 
alone  by  man  but  by  nature  herself. 

At  this  season,  the  great  plain  between  Herat  and 
Kandahar  should  be  all-sufficing  to  the  needs  of 
travelers.  Watered  by  a  noble  river,  the  Helmund, 
and  traversed  by  innumerable  streams,  it  was  reputed 
the  Garden  of  Afghanistan.  Pent  in  the  bosom  of 
earth,  all  manner  of  herbs  and  fruits  and  wholesome 

[3] 


The  Great  Mogul 

seeds  were  ready  to  burst  forth  with  utmost  prodigality 
when  the  rain-clouds  gathered  on  the  hills  and  dis 
charged  their  gracious  showers  over  a  soil  athirst. 
But  Allah,  in  His  exceeding  wisdom,  had  seen  fit  to 
withhold  the  fertilizing  monsoon,  and  the  few  re 
sources  of  the  exiles  had  yielded  to  the  strain.  First 
their  small  flock  of  goats,  then  their  camel,  had  fallen 
or  been  slain.  There  was  left  the  cow,  whose  daily 
store  of  milk  dwindled  under  the  lack  of  food. 

The  patient  animal,  lean  as  the  kine  of  the  seven 
years  of  famine  in  Joseph's  dream,  was  yet  fit  to  walk 
and  carry  the  two  boys,  whose  sturdy  limbs  had  shrunk 
and  weakened  until  they  could  no  longer  be  trusted 
to  toddle  alone  even  on  the  level  ground.  She  stood 
now,  regarding  her  companions  in  suffering  with  her 
big  violet  eyes  and  almost  contentedly  chewing  some 
wizened  herbage  gathered  by  the  man  overnight. 
Strange  to  say,  it  was  on  the  capabilities  of  the  cow 
that  rested  the  final  issue  of  life  and  death  for  one  if 
not  all.  The  cow  had  carried  and  sustained  the  woman 
before  and  after  the  birth  of  the  child.  Last  and  most 
valued  of  their  possessions,  she  had  become  the  arbiter 
of  their  fate. 

The  Persian,  Mirza  Ali  Beg  was  his  name,  was  as 
sured  that  if  they  could  march  a  few  more  days  they 
would  reach  the  cultivated  region  dominated  by  the 
city  of  Kandahar.  There,  even  in  this  period  of  want, 
the  boundless  charity  of  the  East  would  save  them  from 
death  by  starvation.  But  the  infant  was  exhausting 
her  mother.  She  demanded  the  whole  meager  supply 

[4] 


The  Great  Mogul 

of  the  life-giving  milk  of  the  cow,  and  in*  Mirza  Ali 
Beg's  tortured  soul  the  husband  wrought  with  the 
father. 

That  four  might  have  a  chance  of  living  one  should 
die!  Such  was  the  dreadful  edict  he  put  forth  trem 
blingly  at  last.  And  now,  when  the  woman  saw  the 
strong  man  in  a  palsy  at  her  feet,  her  love  for  him  van 
quished  even  the  all-powerful  instinct  of  maternity. 
She  fiercely  thrust  the  child  into  his  arms  and  mur 
mured  :  — 

"I  yield,  my  husband.  Take  her,  in  God's  name, 
and  do  with  her  as  seemeth  best.  Not  for  myself,  but 
for  thee  and  for  our  sons,  do  I  consent." 

Thinking  himself  stronger  and  sterner  than  he  was, 
Mirza  Ali  Beg  rose  to  his  feet.  But  his  heart  was  as 
lead  and  his  hands  shook  as  he  fondled  the  warm  and 
almost  plump  body  of  the  infant.  Here  was  a  man 
indeed  distraught.  Between  husband  and  wife,  who 
shall  say  which  had  the  more  grievous  burden  ? 

With  a  frenzied  prayer  to  the  Almighty  for  help,  he 
wrapped  a  linen  cloth  over  the  infant's  face,  placed  the 
struggling  little  form  among  the  roots  of  a  tall  tree,  and 
left  it  there.  Bidding  the  two  boys,  dark-eyed  young 
sters  aged  three  and  five,  to  cling  tightly  to  the  pillion 
on  the  cow's  back,  he  took  the  halter  and  the  staff  in 
his  right  hand,  passed  his  left  arm  around  the  emaciated 
frame  of  his  wife,  and,  in  this  wise,  the  small  cavalcade 
resumed  its  journey. 

Ever  and  anon  the  plaint  of  the  abandoned  infant 
reached  their  ears.  The  two  children,  without  special 

[5] 


reason,  began  to  cry.  The  mother,  always  turning  her 
head,  wept  with  increasing  violence.  Even  the  poor 
cow,  wanting  food  and  water,  lowed  her  distress. 

The  man,  striving  to  compress  his  tremulous  lips, 
strode  forward,  staring  into  vacancy.  He  dared  not 
look  behind.  He  knew  that  the  feeble  cries  of  the  baby 
girl  would  ring  in  his  ears  until  they  were  closed  to  all 
mortal  sounds.  He  took  no  note  of  the  rough  caravan 
track  they  followed,  marked  as  it  was  by  the  ashes  of 
camp  fires  and  the  whitened  bones  of  pack  animals. 
With  all  the  force  of  a  masterful  nature  he  tried  to 
stagger  on,  and  on,  until  the  tragedy  was  irrevocable. 

But  the  woman,  when  they  reached  a  point  where 
the  road  curved  round  a  huge  rock,  realized  that  the 
next  onward  step  would  shut  out  forever  from  her  eyes 
the  sight  of  that  tiny  bundle  lying  in  the  roots  of  the 
tree.  So  she  choked  back  her  sobs,  swept  away  her 
tears,  gave  one  last  look  at  her  infant,  gasped  a  word  of 
fond  endearment,  and  fell  fainting  in  the  dust. 

Amidst  the  many  troubles  and  anxieties  of  that  four 
months'  pilgrimage  she  had  never  fainted  before. 
Though  she  was  a  Persian  lady  of  utmost  refinement 
and  great  accomplishments,  she  came  of  a  hardy  race, 
and  her  final  collapse  imbued  her  husband  with  a 
stoicism  hitherto  lacking  in  his  despair. 

"  This,  then,  is  the  end,"  said  he.  "  Be  it  so.  I  can 
strive  against  destiny  no  further." 

Tenderly  he  lifted  his  wife  to  a  place  where  sand 
offered  a  softer  couch  than  the  rocks  on  which  she  lay. 

"  I  must  bring  the  infant,"  he  muttered  aloud.  "  The 
[6] 


touch  of  its  hands  will  revive  her.  Then  I  shall  kill 
poor  Deri  (the  cow),  and  we  can  feast  on  her  in  the 
hope  that  some  may  pass  this  way.  Walk,  with  three 
to  carry,  we  cannot." 

This  was  indeed  the  counsel  of  desperation.  The 
cow,  living,  provided  their  sole  link  with  the  outer 
world.  Dead,  she  maintained  them  a  little  while. 
Soon  the  scanty  meat  she  would  yield  would  become 
uneatable  and  they  were  lost  beyond  saving.  Never 
theless,  once  the  resolve  was  taken  a  load  was  lifted 
from  the  man's  breast.  Bidding  the  elder  boy  hold 
Deri's  halter,  he  strode  back  towards  the  infant  with 
eager  haste. 

As  he  drew  near  he  thought  he  saw  something 
black  and  glistening  amidst  the  soiled  linen  which  en 
wrapped  the  little  one.  After  another  stride  he  stood 
still.  A  fresh  tribulation  awaited  him.  Many  times 
girdling  the  child's  limbs  and  body  was  a  hideous  snake, 
a  monster  whose  powerful  coils  could  break  the  tiny 
bones  as  if  they  were  straws. 

The  flat  and  ugly  head  was  raised  to  look  at  him. 
The  beady  black  eyes  seemed  to  emit  sparks  of  vene- 
mous  fire,  and  the  forked  tongue  was  darting  in  and 
out  of  the  fanged  mouth  as  though  the  reptile  was 
anticipating  the  feast  in  store. 

Mirza  Ali  Beg  was  no  coward,  but  this  new  frenzy 
almost  overcame  him.  There  was  a  chance,  a  slight 
one,  that  the  serpent  had  not  yet  crushed  the  life  out  of 
its  prey.  Using  words  which  were  no  prayer,  the  father 
uplifted  the  tough  staff  which  he  still  carried.  He 


The  Great  Mogul 

rushed  forward.  The  snake  elevated  its  head  to  take 
stock  of  this  unexpected  enemy,  but  the  stick  dealt  it  a 
furious  blow  on  the  tail. 

Instantly  uncoiling  itself,  either  to  fight  or  escape,  as 
seemed  most  expedient,  it  received  another  blow  which 
hurled  it,  with  dislocated  vertebrae,  far  into  the  dust. 

The  man,  with  a  great  cry  of  joy,  saw  that  the  child 
was  stretching  her  limbs,  now  that  the  tight  clutch  of 
its  terrible  assailant  was  withdrawn.  He  caught  her  up 
into  his  arms  and,  weak  as  he  was,  ran  back  to  his  wife. 

"  Here  is  one  who  will  restore  the  blood  to  thy  cheeks, 
Mihr-ul-nisa,"  he  cried.  And  truly  the  mother  stirred 
again  with  the  first  satisfied  chuckle  of  the  infant  as  it 
sought  her  breast. 

The  husband,  heedless  what  befell  for  the  hour,  ob 
tained  from  the  cow  such  slight  store  of  milk  as  she 
possessed.  He  gave  some  to  the  two  boys,  the  greater 
portion  to  the  baby,  and  was  refuting  his  wife's  remon 
strance  that  he  had  taken  none  himself  as  he  pressed 
the  remainder  on  her,  when  the  noise  of  a  commotion 
at  a  distance  caused  them  to  look  in  wonderment  along 
-the  road  they  had  recently  traversed  in  such  sorrow. 

There,  gathered  around  some  object,  were  a  number 
•of  men,  some  mounted  on  Arab  horses  or  riding  camels, 
others  on  foot;  behind  this  nearer  group  they  could 
distingiush  a  long  kafila  of  loaded  beasts  with  armed 
attendants. 

"  God  be  praised ! "  cried  Mihr-ul-nisa,  "  we  are 
saved ! " 

This  was  the  caravan  of  a  rich  merchant,  faring  from 

[8] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Persia  or  Bokhara  to  the  court  of  the  Great  Mogul. 
The  undulating  plain,  no  less  than  their  own  anguish 
of  mind,  had  prevented  the  Persian  and  his  wife  from 
noting  the  glittering  spear  points  of  the  warrior  mer 
chant's  retainers  as  they  rode  forward  in  the  morning 
sun.  Surely  such  a  host  would  spare  a  little  food  and 
water  for  the  starving  family,  and  forage  for  Deri,  the 
cow! 

"But  what  are  they  looking  at?"  cried  the  woman^ 
of  whom  hope  had  made  a  fresh  being. 

"They  have  found  the  snake." 

"What  snake?" 

"  It  is  matterless.  As  I  returned  for  the  child,  wherr 
you  fell  in  a  swoon,  I  met  a  snake  and  killed  it." 

A  startled  look  came  into  her  eyes. 

" Khodah  hai!"*  she  murmured;  "it  would  have 
Attacked  my  baby!" 

Two  men,  mounted  on  Turkoman  horses,  were  now 
spurring  towards  them.  Mirza  Ali  Beg  advanced  a 
few  paces  to  meet  them. 

One,  an  elderly  man  of  grave  appearance  and  richly 
attired,  reined  in  his  horse  at  a  little  distance  and  cried 
to  his  companion :  — 

"  By  the  tomb  of  Mahomet,  Sher  Khan,  'tis  he  of  my 
dream ! " 

The  other,  a  handsome  and  soldierly  youth,  came 
nearer  and  questioned  Ali  Beg,  mostly  concerning  the 
disabled  and  dying  snake,  found  and  beaten  into  pulp 
by  the  foremost  men  of  the  caravan. 
*  "  There  is  indeed  a  God ! " 
[9] 


The  Great  Mogul 

The  Mirza  told  his  tale  with  dignified  eloquence;  he 
ended  with  a  pathetic  request  for  help  for  his  exhausted 
wife  and  family. 

This  was  forthcoming  quickly,  and,  while  he  himself 
was  refreshed  with  good  milk,  and  dates,  and  cakes 
of  pounded  wheat,  Malik  Masiid,  the  elder  of  the  two 
horsemen  and  leader  of  the  train,  told  how  he  dreamt 
the  previous  night  that  during  a  wayside  halt  under  a 
big  tree  he  was  attacked  by  a  poisonous  snake,  which 
was  vanquishing  him  until  a  stranger  came  to  his  aid. 

The  snake  lying  in  the  path  of  the  kafila  was  the 
exact  counterpart  of  that  seen  in  his  disturbing  vision, 
but  his  amazement  was  complete  when  he  recognized 
in  Ali  Beg  the  stranger  who  had  saved  him. 

So,  in  due  course,  Mihr-ul-nisa,  with  her  baby  girl, 
was  mounted  on  a  camel,  and  her  husband  and  two 
sons  on  another,  and  Deri,  the  cow,  before  joining  the 
train,  was  regaled  with  a  copious  draught  of  water  and 
an  ample  measure  of  gram. 

Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  Mirza  Ali  Beg  and  his 
family  were  convoyed  through  Kandahar  and  Kabul  in 
comfort  and  .safety.  They  rode  through  the  gaunt 
jaws  of  the  Khaibar  Pass,  and  emerged,  after  many 
days,  into  the  great  plain  of  the  Punjab,  verdant  with  an 
abundant  though  deferred  harvest. 

And  no  one  imagined,  least  of  all  the  baby  girl  her 
self,  that  the  infant  crowing  happily  in  the  arms  of 
Mihr-ul-nisa  was  destined  to  become  a  beautiful,  gra 
cious  and  world-renowned  princess,  whose  name  and 
love-story  should  endure  through  many  a  century. 

[10] 


The  Great  Mogul 

******* 

In  that  same  month  of  July,  1588,  on  the  nineteenth 
day  of  the  month,  to  be  exact,  the  blazoned  sails  of  the 
Spanish  Armada  were  sighted  off  the  Lizard.  Sixty- 
five  great  war  galleons,  eight  fleet  galleasses,  fifty-six 
armed  merchantmen  and  twenty  pinnaces  swept  along 
the  Channel  in  gallant  show.  Spread  out  in  a  gigantic 
crescent,  the  Spanish  ships  were  likened  by  anxious 
watchers  to  a  great  bird  of  prey  with  outstretched  wings. 
But  Lord  Howard  of  Effingham  led  out  of  Plymouth 
a  band  of  adventurers  who  had  hunted  that  bird  many  a 
time.  Drake,  Hawkins,  Frobisher  and  the  rest  —  they 
feared  no  Spaniard  who  sailed  the  seas. 

Their  little  vessels,  well  handled,  could  sail  two  miles 
to  the  Spaniards'  one,  and  fire  twice  as  many  shots  gun 
for  gun.  "One  by  one,"  said  they,  "we  plucked  the 
Don's  feathers."  Ship  after  ship  was  sunk,  captured, 
or  driven  on  shore.  A  whole  week  the  cannon  roared 
from  Plymouth  Sound  to  Calais,  and  there  the  last 
great  fight  took  place  in  which  the  Duke  of  Medina 
Sidonia  yielded  himself  to  agonized  foreboding,  and 
Drake  rightly  believed  that  the  Spanish  grandee  "  would 
ere  long  wish  himself  at  St.  Mary  Port  among  his 
orange  trees." 

During  one  of  the  many  fierce  duels  between  the 
ponderous  galleons  and  the  hawk-like  British  ships, 
the  Resolution,  hastily  manned  at  Deal  by  volunteers 
who  rode  from  London,  hung  on  to  and  finally  captured 
the  San  Jose. 

It  was  no  easy  victory,  for  the  Spaniards  could  acquit 

[11] 


The  Great  Mogul 

themselves  as  men  when  seamanship  and  gunnery  gave 
place  to  swords  and  pikes.  Three  times  did  the  assail 
ants  swarm  up  the  lofty  poop  of  the  San  Jose  before 
they  made  good  their  footing. 

At  last,  the  Spaniards  gave  way  before  the  ardent  on 
slaught  led  by  a  gallant  gentleman  from  Wensleydale 
in  the  North,  Sir  Robert  Mowbray,  to  wit,  who,  had  he 
lived,  was  marked  out  for  certain  preferment  at  court. 

Unhappily,  in  the  moment  of  victory,  a  young,  pale- 
faced  monk,  an  ascetic  and  visionary,  maddened  by  the 
success  of  his  country's  hereditary  foe,  sprang  from  the 
nook  in  which  he  lurked  and  struck  Mowbray  a  heavy 
blow  with  the  large  brass  crucifix  he  carried. 

The  Englishman  had  doffed  his  hat  and  was  cour 
teously  saluting  the  Spanish  captain,  who  was  in  the 
act  of  yielding  up  his  sword.  One  outstretched  arm  of 
the  image  of  mercy  penetrated  his  skull,  and  he  fell 
dead  at  the  feet  of  his  captive. 

At  once  the  conflict  broke  out  anew.  Nothing  could 
restrain  the  crew  of  the  Resolution  when  they  noted  the 
dastardly  murder  of  their  chivalrous  leader.  The  gal 
leon  became  a  slaughter-house.  The  monk,  frenzied 
as  a  beast  in  the  shambles,  sprang  overboard  and  was 
carried  past  another  ship,  the  Vera  Cruz,  which  rescued 
him.  This  vessel  was  one  of  the  few  storm-wracked 
and  fever-laden  survivors  of  the  Armada  which  reached 
Corunna. 

The  Englishmen  learnt  from  wounded  Spaniards 
that  the  fanatical  ecclesiastic  was  a  certain  Fra  Ge- 
ronimo  from  the  great  Jesuit  seminary  at  Toledo. 

[12] 


The  Great  Mogul 

They  remembered  the  name  so  that  they  might  curse 
it.  They  cried  in  their  rage  because  Fra  Geronimo 
had  escaped  them. 

A  black  snake  in  the  plain  of  Herat,  a  glittering 
crucifix  on  board  the  San  Jose  in  the  Channel  off 
Gravelines  —  these  were  queer  links,  savoring  of 
necromancy,  whereby  the  lives  of  gallant  men  and  fair 
women  should  be  bound  indissolubly.  Yet  it  was  so, 
as  those  who  follow  this  strange  and  true  history  shall 
learn,  for  many  a  blow  was  struck  and  many  a  heart 
ached  because  Nur  Mahal  lived  and  Sir  Robert  Mow- 
bray  died  in  that  wonderful  month  of  July,  1588. 


[13] 


CHAPTER  II 

"Up  then  rose  the  'prentices  all, 
Living  in  London,  both  propei 


proper  and  tall." 

Old  Sang. 

SIR  THOMAS  CAVE,  of  Stanford  in  Northampton 
shire,  a  worthy  Knight  who  held  his  wisdom  of  greater 
repute  at  court  than  did  his  royal  Master,  was  led  by 
the  glamour  of  a  fine  summer's  afternoon  in  the  year 
1608  to  fulfil  a  long-deferred  promise  to  his  daughter. 

At  Spring  Gardens,  removed  but  a  short  space  from 
the  King's  Palace  of  Whitehall,  that  eccentric  monarch, 
James  I.,  had  established  a  menagerie.  Here  could  be 
seen  certain  mangy  specimens  of  the  wonderful  beasts 
which  bulked  large  in  the  lore  of  the  period,  and  Mis 
tress  Anna  Cave,  with  her  fair  cousin,  Mistress  Eleanor 
Roe,  had  teased  Sir  Thomas  until  he  consented  to  take 
them  thither  on  the  first  occasion,  of  fair  seeming  as  to 
the  weather,  when  the  King  would  be  pleased  to  dis 
pense  with  his  attendance. 

The  girls,  than  whom  there  were  not  two  prettier 
maidens  in  all  England,  soon  tired  of  evil-smelling  and 
snarling  animals,  which  in  no  wise  came  up  to  the 
wonderful  creatures  of  their  imagination,  eked  out  by 
weird  wood-cuts  in  the  books  they  read. 

They  found  the  charming  garden,  with  its  beds  of 
[14] 


The  Great  Mogul 

flowers  and  strawberries,  its  hedges  of  red  and  black 
currants,  roses  and  gooseberries,  and  its  golden  plum- 
trees  lining  the  brick  walls  facing  west  and  south,  far 
more  to  their  liking. 

Nor  was  it  wholly  unsuited  to  their  age  and  condition 
that  their  eye^s  wandered  from  the  cages  of  furtive 
wolves  and  uneasy  bears  to  the  smooth  walks  tenanted 
by  a  coterie  of  court  ladies  with  their  attendant  gallants. 
Anna  Cave,  eighteen,  yet  looking  older  by  reason  of  her 
tall  stature  and  graceful  carriage,  Eleanor  Roe,  a  year 
younger,  a  sweet  girl,  at  once  timid  in  manner  and 
joyous  in  disposition,  found  much  to  cavil  at  in  the 
Spanish  fashions  then  prevalent  in  high  circles.  Born 
and  bred  in  decorous  and  God-fearing  households,  they 
were  not  a  little  shocked  by  the  way  in  which  the  great 
dames  of  the  period  dressed  and  comported  themselves. 
Yet,  with  all  their  youthful  disapproval  there  mingled 
a  spice  of  curiosity,  and  Nellie,  the  shy  one,  often 
nudged  her  more  sedate  companion  to  take  note  of  a 
specially  ornate  farthingale  or  a  Spanish  mantilla  of 
exquisite  design. 

Now,  despite  the  reverence  in  which  the  stout  Sir 
Thomas  held  the  King,  he  did  not  approve  of  some  of 
the  King's  associates.  Especially  was  he  unwilling  that 
the  bold  eyes  of  any  of  the  young  adventurers  and 
profligates  who  clustered  under  the  banner  of  Rochester 
should  survey  the  charms  of  his  daughter  and  niece. 
Therefore,  when  the  girls  would  have  him  walk  with 
them  in  the  wake  of  Lady  Essex,  then  at  the  height  of 
her  notorious  fame,  he  peremptorily  vetoed  their  design. 

[15] 


The  Great  Mogul 

"If  you  are  aweary  of  the  kennels,"  he  said,  "we 
will  stroll  in  our  own  garden.  It  is  fair  as  this,  and  the 
scent  of  the  flowers  therein  is  not  aped  by  the  cosmetics 
of  the  women." 

"  Nay,  but,  uncle,"  pouted  Eleanor,  disappointed  that 
the  style  of  the  much  talked-of  Countess  should  be  no 
more  than  glimpsed  in  passing,  "we  have  seen  neither 
lion,  nor  tiger,  nor  humpbacked  camel.  Surely  the 
King's  collection  is  not  so  meager  that  one  may  find  as 
many  wild  beasts  at  any  May-day  fair  in  Islington  ? " 

"  Lions,  tigers,  and  the  rest,  Got  wot !  What  doth  a 
girl  like  thee  want  with  such  fearsome  cattle  ? " 

"  'Tis  only  a  few  days  since  I  heard  one  declaiming 
a  passage  in  Master  Shakespeare's  play  of  '  Macbeth/ 
and  he  said: 

What  men  dare,  I  dare: 

Approach  them  like  the  rugged  Russian  bear, 
The  arm'd  rhinoceros,  or  the  Hyrcan  tiger; 
Take  any  shape  but  that,  and  my  firm  nerves 
Shall  never  tremble. 

Now,  save  a  very  harmless-looking  bear,  neither  Ann 
nor  I  have  seen  these  things,  so  we  know  not  why  they 
should  be  held  so  terrible." 

During  this  recital  the  knight's  red  face  became 
wider  and  wider  with  surprise. 

"Marry,  Heaven  forfend!"  he  cried,  "what  goings 
on  there  be  behind  my  back!  Anna,  can  you,  too, 
spout  verse  as  glibly  ?  " 

"Indeed,  father,  Nellie  and  I  know  whole  plays  by 
[16] 


The  Great  Mogul 

heart.     Yet   we  would  not  indulge  in  this  innocent 
pastime  if  we  thought  it  angered  you." 

Sir  Thomas  was  as  wax  in  his  daughter's  hands. 
Secretly,  he  feared  her  greater  intellectual  powers.  He 
believed  that  girls'  brains  were  better  suited  to  house 
wifely  cares  than  to  the  study  of  poetry,  yet  some 
twinge  of  doubt  bade  him  keep  the  opinion  pent  in  his 
own  portly  breast. 

"Nay,  then,  if  it  pleases  you  and  wiles  away  dull 
hours,  I  will  not  hinder  you.  But  our  sweet  Nellie 
should  not  betray  her  gifts  in  public.  Folk  hereabouts 
have  rabbits'  ears  and  magpies'  tongues.  I  fear  me 
there  are  neither  lions  nor  horned  pigs  to  hand.  They 
are  costly  toys,  and  'tis  whispered  that  his  gracious 
Majesty  obtain eth  less  credit  abroad  than  among  his 
liege  subjects.  Further,  my  bonny  girls,  I  have  asked 
a  certain  youth,  George  Beeston  by  name,  to  sup  with  us 
to-night,  and  it  behooves  you  —  What,  Anna,  has  it 
come  to  that  ?  You  shrug  at  the  mere  mention  of  him ! 
And  he  a  proper  youth  —  not  one  of  these  graceless 
rascals  who  yelp  at  Carr's  heels!" 

Again  was  Sir  Thomas  becoming  choleric  and  red- 
faced,  and  the  girls'  excursion  promised  to  end  in 
speedy  dudgeon  had  not  a  messenger,  wearing  the 
Palace  livery,  approached  and  doffed  his  cap,  bowing 
low  as  he  halted. 

"  Happily  one  said  your  worship  was  in  the  gardens," 
he  said.  "  I  am  bidden  to  tell  you  that  the  King  awaits 
your  honor  in  his  closet.  The  matter  is  of  utmost 
urgency." 

[17] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Now,  this  announcement  had  the  precise  effect  on  its 
recipient  calculated  by  those  who  sent  it.  Sir  Thomas, 
inflated  with  importance,  was  rendered  almost  inco 
herent.  Never  before  had  he  received  such  a  royal 
message.  All  considerations  must  bow  to  it.  He 
bustled  the  girls  into  a  litter  in  which  they  could  be 
carried  to  his  brother's  house  in  the  city  without  soiling 
their  shoes  or  being  exposed  to  the  gaze  of  the  throng 
in  the  Fleet  or  Ludgate.  He  himself  hurried  off  to 
Whitehall,  there  to  be  kept  in  a  fume  of  impatience  for 
a  good  hour  or  more,  while  the  King  disputed  with  a 
Scottish  divine  as  to  the  exact  pronunciation  of  the 
Latin  tongue.  Admitted  at  last  to  the  presence,  he 
found  that  the  urgency  of  his  summons  touched  no 
greater  matter  than  the  cleansing  of  the  Fleet  ditch,  a 
fruitful  source  of  dispute  "between  the  monarch  and  the 
city  in  those  days. 

Sir  Thomas  had  wit  enough  to  promise  that  the 
King's  wishes  should  be  made  known  to  the  Common 
Council,  and  sense  enough  to  wonder  why  he  was 
called  in  such  hot  haste  to  attend  a  trivial  thing. 

It  was  a  time  when  men  sought  hidden  motives  for 
aught  that  savored  of  the  uncommon;  the  knight, 
borrowing  a  palfrey  from  a  merchant  of  his  acquaint 
ance,  rode  homeward  along  the  Strand  revolving  the 
puzzle  in  his  mind.  Long  before  he  reached  Temple 
Bar  he  was  wiser  if  not  happier. 

Soon  after  Anna  Cave  and  the  sprightly  Eleanor 
entered  their  litter  to  be  carried  swiftly  through  the 
Strand,  two  young  men  approached  Temple  Bar  from 

[18] 


The  Great  Mogul 

the  east.  Their  distinctive  garments  showed  that 
while  one  was  of  gentle  birth  the  other  was  a  yeoman; 
that  they  were  not  master  and  man  could  be  seen  at  a 
glance,  as  they  conversed  one  with  the  other  with  easy 
familiarity,  and  repaid  with  ready  good-humor  the 
chaff  which  they  received  from  the  cheeky  apprentices 
who  solicited  custom  in  the  busy  street. 

Indeed,  the  appearance  of  the  yeoman  was  well  cal 
culated  to  stir  tongues  less  nimble  than  those  of  the 
pert  salesmen  of  Fleet  Street.  Gigantic  in  height  and 
width,  his  broad,  ruddy  face  beaming  with  the  delight 
afforded  by  the  evidently  novel  sights  of  London,  his 
immense  size  was  accentuated  by  a  coat  of  tough 
brown  leather  and  high  riding-boots  of  the  same 
material  which  almost  met  the  skirts  of  the  coat. 
Tight-fitting  trousers  of  gray  homespun  matched  the 
color  of  his  broad-brimmed  felt  hat,  in  which  a  gay 
plume  of  cock's  feathers  was  clasped  by  a  big  brooch 
of  dull  gold.  The  precious  metal  served  to  enclose  a 
peculiar  ornament,  in  the  shape  of  a  headless  fossil 
snake,  curled  in  a  circle  as  in  life  and  polished  until  it 
shone  like  granite. 

Though  his  coat  was  girt  by  a  sword-belt  he  carried 
no  weapons  of  steel,  apparently  depending  for  protec 
tion,  if  such  a  giant  required  its  aid,  on  a  long  and 
heavy  ashplant.  In  other  hands  it  would  be  a  cum 
brous  stake;  to  him  it  served  as  a  mere  wand. 

His  immense  size,  aided  by  a  somewhat  unusual 
garb  in  well-dressed  London,  absolutely  eclipsed,  in 
the  public  eye,  the  handsome  and  stalwart  youth  who, 

[191 


The  Great  Mogul 

in  richer  but  studiously  simple  attire,  strode  by  his 
side. 

The  apprentices,  fearless  in  their  numbers  and  un 
fettered  in  impudence,  plied  him  with  saucy  cries. 

"What  d'ye  lack,  Master  Samson?  Here  be  two 
suits  for  the  price  of  one,  for  one  man's  clothes  would 
never  fit  thee." 

"  Come  hither,  mountain !  I'll  sell  thee  a  town  clock 
that  shall  serve  thee  as  watch." 

"Hi,  master!  Let  me  show  thee  a  trencher  worthy 
of  thy  stomach." 

The  last  speaker  held  forth  a  salver  of  such  ample 
circumference  that  the  two  young  men  were  fain  to 
laugh. 

"I*  faith,  friend,"  said  the  gaint,  with  utmost  good- 
humor,  "we  are  more  needing  meat  than  dishes. 
Nevertheless,  you  have  ta'en  my  measure  rightly." 

His  North-country  accent  proclaimed  him  a  York 
shire  dalesman,  and  the  White  Rose  was  popular  just 
then  in  Fleet  Street. 

"  If  that  be  so,"  said  the  sturdy  silversmith's  assistant 
who  had  hailed  him,  "  you  must  hie  to  Smithfield,  where 
they  shall  roast  you  a  bullock." 

"  Come  wi'  me,  then.  Mayhap  they  need  a  puppy 
for  the  spit." 

The  answer  turned  the  laugh  against  the  apprentice. 
He  bravely  endeavored  to  rally. 

"I  cry  your  honor's  pardon,"  he  said.  "I  looked 
not  for  brains  where  there  was  so  much  beef." 

"Therein  you  further  showed  your  observation. 
[20] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Ofttimes  the  cockloft  is  empty  in  those  whom  nature 
hath  built  many  stories  high." 

Again  the  buoyant  spirits  of  the  Colossus  won  him 
the  suffrages  of  the  crowd.  Clearly,  he  had  an  even 
temper  in  his  great  frame  of  bone  and  sinew,  for  the 
easy  play  of  his  limbs  showed  that,  big  as  he  was,  he 
held  no  superfluous  flesh,  while  the  heat  of  the  day 
left  him  unmoved,  notwithstanding  his  heavy  garments. 

But  his  companion  caught  him  by  the  arm. 

"Come,  Roger,"  he  said  quietly.  "We  must  find 
our  kinsman's  house.  There  is  still  much  to  be  done 
ere  night  falls." 

The  crowd  made  way  for  them.  They  passed  west 
ward  through  Temple  Bar,  which  was  not  the  frowning 
stone  arch  of  later  days,  but  a  strong  palisade,  with 
posts  and  chains,  capable  of  being  closed  during  a 
tumult,  or  when  darkness  made  it  difficult  to  keep 
watch  and  ward  in  the  city. 

The  Strand,  which  they  entered,  was  an  open  road, 
with  the  mansions  and  gardens  of  great  noblemen  on 
the  left,  or  south  side.  Each  walled  enclosure  was 
separate  from  its  neighbor,  the  alleys  between  leading 
to  the  water  stairs,  where  passengers  so  minded  took 
boat  to  Southwark  or  Lambeth. 

On  the  north  were  other  houses,  some  pretentious, 
but  more  closely  packed  together,  and,  on  this  hand, 
Drury  Lane  and  St.  Martin's  Lane  were  already  becom 
ing  thoroughfares  of  note. 

One  of  these  houses,  not  far  removed  from  the  Church 
of  St.  Mary-le-Strand,  thrust  the  high  wall  of  its  garden 

[21] 


The  Great  Mogul 

so  far  into  the  road  that  it  narrowed  the  passage  be 
tween  it  and  Somerset  House.  Here,  a  group  of  young 
gallants  had  gathered,  and  some  soldiers,  of  swarthy 
visage  and  foreign  attire,  were  loitering  in  the  vicinity. 

"  This,  if  my  memory  serves,  should  be  the  house  of 
Gondomar,  the  Spanish  Ambassador,"  said  Walter 
Mowbray,  the  elder  and  more  authoritative  of  the  pair. 

"Gondomar!  Another  name  for  Old  Nick!  The 
devil  should  keep  his  proper  name  in  all  countries,  as 
he  keeps  his  nature  in  all  places." 

"  Hush,  Roger,  or  we  shall  have  a  brawl  on  our  hands. 
I  am  no  lover  of  Spaniards,  you  know  full  well,  yet  we 
must  pass  Gondomar' s  men  without  unseemly  taunt. 
The  King  loves  not  to  hear  of  naked  blades." 

Thus  admonished,  his  wonted  grin  of  good-humor 
returned  to  Roger  Sainton's  face,  and,  as  the  swaggering 
youngsters  in  the  road  were  paying  some  heed  to  a 
covered  litter  rapidly  approaching  from  the  west,  the 
friends  essayed  to  pass  them  by  taking  the  pavement 
close  under  the  wall  of  the  Ambassador's  garden. 

As  luck  would  have  it,  a  sort  of  signal  seemed  to  be 
given  for  a  row  to  start.  Swords  were  whipped  out. 
men  ran  forward,  and  there  was  a  sudden  clash  of  steel. 

A  laughing  fop,  for  his  sins,  turned  to  seek  some  one 
with  whom  to  pick  a  quarrel ;  he  chanced  to  find  himself 
face  to  face  with  Mowbray,  Roger  being  a  little  in  front 
and  at  one  side. 

"I'll  have  the  wall  of  you,  sirrah,"  cried  the  stranger, 
frowning  offensively. 

Walter  stepped  back,  and  his  right  hand  crossed  to 
[22] 


The  Great  Mogul 

his  sword  hilt,  so  evident  was  the  design  of  the  other  to 
insult  him. 

But  Sainton  laughed.  He  caught  the  would-be  bully 
by  the  belt. 

"Yea,  and  take  the  house,  too,  if  the  landlord  be 
willing,  my  pretty  buck,"  he  growled  pleasantly, 
whereon  he  heaved  the  swaggerer  bodily  over  the 
wall,  and  they  heard  the  crash  of  his  body  into  the 
window  of  a  summer  house. 

Those  who  stood  near  were  rendered  aghast  by  this 
feat  of  strength;  they  had  never  seen  its  like.  Young 
Lord  Dereham  was  no  light  weight,  and  his  lordship's 
wriggling  carcass  had  described  sufficient  parabola  to 
clear  coping-stones  set  ten  feet  above  the  pavement. 

The  incident  passed  unheeded  by  the  greater  mob  in 
the  roadway.  For  no  reason  whatever  a  crowd  of 
struggling  men  surged  around  the  litter.  Mowbray, 
clutching  his  undrawn  sword,  planted  his  back  against 
the  wall  from  which  the  discomfited  aristocrat  would 
have  ousted  him ;  he  called  to  Sainton :  — 

"  Stand  by,  Roger !    There  is  some  treason  afoot ! " 

The  words  had  scarce  left  his  mouth  when  a  Spanish 
halberdier  felled  the  two  nearest  litter-bearers,  and  a 
shriek  of  dismay  came  from  behind  the  drawn  curtains 
as  the  conveyance  dropped  to  the  ground. 

Another  rush,  also  preconcerted,  enabled  some  of  the 
well-dressed  rascals  to  possess  themselves  of  the  litter- 
poles.  The  gates  of  Gondomar's  garden  were  sud 
denly  opened,  and  a  move  was  made  to  carry  the  litter 
thither. 

[23] 


The  Great  Mogul 

At  that  instant  Eleanor  Roe,  thrusting  aside  the  cur 
tains,  showed  her  beautiful  face,  now  distraught  with 
fear,  and  cried  aloud  for  help. 

"Be  not  alarmed,  fair  one,"  said  one  of  her  new 
escort,  scarcely  veiling  his  bold  stare  of  admiration  by 
an  assumption  of  good  manners.  "  We  have  saved  you 
from  some  roistering  knaves,  and  shall  give  you  a 
pleasant  refuge  until  the  trouble  be  quelled." 

"  Where  are  my  father's  serving-men  ? "  demanded 
another  voice,  and  Anna  looked  forth,  though  anger 
rather  than  fear  marked  her  expression. 

"Prone  in  the  dust,  miladi,"  answered  the  cavalier. 

Both  girls  saw  that  they  were  being  taken  towards 
Gondomar's  house. 

"  I  pray  you  convey  us  to  Temple  Bar,"  cried  Anna, 
an  alarmed  look  now  sending  shadows  across  her  dark 
eyes.  "'Tis  but  a  step,  and  there  our  names  shall 
warrant  us  bearers  in  plenty." 

"  You  are  much  too  pretty  to  trust  to  such  varlets," 
said  the  spokesman  of  the  party,  and,  before  another 
word  of  protest  could  be  uttered,  the  litter  was  hustled 
within  the  gates,  which  were  closed  at  once. 

Now,  both  Mowbray  and  his  huge  companion  were 
assured  that  the  whole  business  was  a  trick.  The  only 
sufferers  from  the  riot  were  the  unfortunate  litter- 
bearers  and  the  nobleman  who  was  pitched  over  the 
wall.  All  the  rest  was  make-believe,  save  the  unpleas- 
ing  fact  that  two  young  and  beautiful  girls  were  left 
helpless  in  the  hands  of  a  number  of  unprincipled 
libertines  such  as  followed  the  lead  set  by  Carr,  the 

[24] 


The  Great  Mogul 

'Scottish  page,  and  maintained,  in  later  years,  by 
"  Steenie  "  and  "  Baby  Charles  "  in  a  lewd  and  dissolute 
court. 

But  Mowbray  was  a  comparative  stranger  in  London, 
and  Sain  ton  had  never  before  set  eyes  on  the  capital. 
Common  prudence  suggested  that  they  should  not 
raise  a  clamor  at  the  gates  of  Gondomar,  whose  great 
influence  with  the  erratic  King  was  widely  known  and 
justly  dreaded. 

Yet,  when  did  prudence  ever  withstand  the  pleading 
of  a  pretty  face  ?  Mowbray's  blood  was  boiling,  and 
it  needed  but  little  to  rouse  him  to  action.  The  im 
petus  was  soon  forthcoming. 

The  noise  of  the  disturbance  brought  people  running 
from  Temple  Bar.  Others  hurried  up  from  the  direc 
tion  of  Charing  Cross.  Then,  as  now,  Londoners 
dearly  loved  a  street  row. 

Again,  by  well-planned  strategy,  the  soldiers  and 
some  of  the  exquisites  mingled  with  the  crowd  and 
gave  lying  assurances  that  the  rogues  who  fought  had 
run  off  towards  the  Convent  Garden.  Roger  recog 
nized  the  silversmith's  apprentice  among  the  gapers. 

"  Here,  lad,"  he  said,  beckoning  him,  "ask  yon  fellow 
holding  a  kerchief  to  his  broken  head  who  were  the 
ladies  he  carried  in  the  litter." 

The  man,  thus  appealed  to,  gathered  his  wits  suffi 
ciently  to  answer,  and  the  honored  names  of  Cave  and 
Roe  acted  as  sparks  on  tinder.  Forthwith,  a  number 
of  city  youths  gathered  round  Mowbray  and  Sainton  to 
hear  their  version  of  the  fray. 

[25] 


The  Great  Mogul 

As  soon  as  they  knew  that  the  girls  had  been  taken 
into  Gondomar's  house,  all  the  race  hatred  and  relig 
ious  bigotry  of  the  time  flamed  forth  in  ungovernable 
fury. 

"  'Prentices !  'Prentices !  Clubs !  Clubs ! "  rang  out 
the  yell,  and  the  war-cry  of  the  guilds  quickly  reached 
to  the  city  barrier,  whence  a  torrent  of  youths  poured 
headlong  into  the  Strand. 

"We'll  have  'em  out,  if  all  the  ambassadors  in  St. 
James's  barred  the  way,"  shouted  the  valiant  silver 
smith,  who  contrived  to  keep  very  close  to  Roger  in  the 
press,  and,  when  reinforcements  arrived,  a  decided 
move  was  made  towards  the  garden  gate. 

And  now,  indeed,  a  real  fight  was  imminent.  Seeing 
their  ruse  foiled,  Gondomar's  adherents  banded  to 
gether  for  the  defense.  The  citizens  were  determined 
to  rescue  the  daughters  of  two  men  respected  of  all 
honest  burgesses,  but,  if  more  numerous,  they  were  not 
properly  armed  to  attack  swordsmen  and  halberdiers. 
Hence,  blood  would  be  spilt  in  plenty  before  they  won 
the  gate,  had  not  Roger  pulled  back  Walter  Mowbray, 
who  headed  the  attack. 

"Leave  'em  to  me,"  he  said.     "I'll  side  'em!" 

With  that  he  leaped  forward  into  the  space  cleared 
by  the  halberdiers,  and  made  play  with  his  staff.  A 
steel  helmet  was  cracked  like  a  potsherd,  three  unar- 
mored  gallants  dropped  beneath  one  blow,  and  two 
halberds  were  broken  across  as  if  they  had  been  pipe- 
stems  abhorred  by  the  King. 

Before  this  raging  giant,  with  the  tremendous  sweep 
[26] 


The  Great  Mogul 

of  his  long  arms  and  six-foot  staff,  ordinary  swords  and 
ceremonial  battle-axes  were  of  no  avail.  He  mowed 
down  his  adversaries  as  a  scythe  cuts  grass,  and  a  few 
lightning  circles  described  by  the  ashplant,  cleared  the 
way  to  the  gate. 

The  door  was  really  a  wide  postern,  sunk  in  the  wall, 
built  of  stout  oak  and  studded  with  iron  rivets.  With 
out  a  moment's  pause,  Sainton  leaned  against  it.  There 
was  a  sound  of  rending  wood-work,  and  the  structure 
was  torn  from  its  hinges. 

Mowbray  parried  a  vengeful  thrust  made  at  his 
friend  by  a  fallen  Spaniard,  and  jammed  the  hilt  of  his 
sword  into  the  man's  face.  Roger,  bending  his  head, 
entered  the  garden.  Behind  him  came  Walter,  and  the 
exulting  mob  poured  in  at  their  heels. 

The  garden  was  empty.  Leading  to  the  house  was 
a  flight  of  broad  steps ;  at  the  open  door  of  the  mansion 
stood  a  tall,  grim-looking,  clean-shaven  priest,  a  Span 
iard,  of  the  ascetic  type,  a  man  of  dignified  appearance, 
in  whose  face  decision  and  strength  of  character  set 
their  seal. 

At  his  elbow  Mowbray  saw  the  young  nobleman  who 
had  addressed  the  girls.  He  ran  forward,  fearing  lest 
Roger  should  open  the  argument  with  his  cudgel. 

"Hold!"  cried  the  ecclesiastic,  in  good  English. 
"  What  want  ye  here  in  this  unbridled  fashion  ?  " 

"  We  seek  two  ladies,  daughters  of  Sir  Thomas  Cave 
and  Master  Robert  Roe,  who  were  brought  hither 
forcibly  but  a  few  minutes  back." 

"  They  are  not  here." 

[27] 


The  Great  Mogul 

"That  is  a  black  lie,  black  as  your  own  gown,"  put 
in  Roger  Sainton. 

The  priest's  sallow  face  flushed.  He  was  of  high 
rank,  and  not  used  to  being  spoken  to  so  curtly.  Mow- 
bray,  already  cooler  now  swords  had  given  place  to 
words,  restrained  Roger  by  a  look  and  a  hand  on  his 
arm. 

"My  friend  is  blunt  of  speech,"  he  explained.  " He 
only  means  that  you  are  mistaken.  It  will  avoid  riot 
and  bloodshed  if  the  ladies  are  given  over  forthwith  to 
the  safe  conduct  of  those  who  are  acquainted  with  their 
parents." 

"  Who  are  you  who  can  venture  to  speak  on  behalf  of 
an  ignorant  and  unmannerly  gathering  which  dares  to 
violate  the  sanctuary  of  an  Embassy  ? "  was  the  vehe 
ment  response. 

"My  name  is  Walter  Mowbray,"  was  the  calm  an 
swer.  "There  is  no  violation  of  sanctuary  intended. 
We  are  here  to  rescue  two  ladies  inveigled  into  this 
house  by  unworthy  device.  Either  they  come  out  or 
we  come  in." 

"Aye,  shaven-pate,  'tis  ill  disputing  with  him  who 
commands  an  army,"  cried  Roger. 

The  cleric,  on  whom  Mowbray's  reply  seemed  to 
have  an  extraordinary  effect,  shot  glances  at  both  which 
would  have  slain  them  if  looks  could  kill.  But  the 
impatient  mob  was  shouting  for  active  measures:  it 
would  have  asked  no  greater  fun  than  the  sack  of 
Gondomar's  residence;  moreover,  the  majority  of  the 
Spaniards  and  their  allies  were  routed  in  the  street. 

[28] 


The  Great  Mogul 

So  the  priest  swallowed  his  wrath  and  muttered 
something  in  a  low  tone  to  the  silken-clad  person  by 
his  side.  Then  he  faced  Mowbray  again. 

"  When  I  said  there  were  no  ladies  here,  I  meant  that 
none  had  been  conveyed  hither  forcibly.  Two  young 
ladies  were  sheltered  by  his  Excellency's  retinue,  it  is 
true.  If  they  choose  they  are  at  liberty  to  accompany 
you,  and  I  shall  now  acquaint  them  therewith." 

A  hoarse  laugh  from  the  crowd  showed  that  the 
sophistry  did  not  pass  unheeded.  Nevertheless,  Mow- 
bray's  counsel  of  moderation  swayed  the  mob  into 
quiescence,  and,  a  minute  later,  Anna  Cave  and  Eleanor 
Roe,  pale  and  trembling,  hardly  knowing  what  was 
toward,  were  carried  in  their  litter  to  the  city  by  an 
excited  but  good-tempered  escort. 


[29] 


CHAPTER  III 

"The   attempt,   and   not   the   deed, 
Confounds  us." 

Shakespeare,  "Macbeth." 

ANNA'S  father,  jogging  along  comfortably  on  the 
borrowed  cob,  overtook  the  rearmost  of  the  rabble  near 
St.  Dunstan's.  Anger  made  him  red,  and  alarm  made 
him  white,  when  he  heard  the  disjointed  tales  of  those 
who  sought  to  enlighten  him. 

That  the  daughter  and  niece  of  one  who  held  high 
place  in  his  native  county,  and  whose  brother  in  the 
city  was  loaded  with  civic  dignities,  should  be  waylaid 
in  the  Strand  by  a  number  of  young  profligates  aping 
Rochester's  license,  was  not  to  be  endured.  Therefore, 
Sir  Thomas  flushed  like  a  turkey,  and  his  right  hand, 
long  unaccustomed  to  more  serious  weapon  than  a 
carving-knife,  tightened  on  the  reins  in  a  way  that 
surprised  his  placid  steed. 

But  it  was  an  equally  serious  thing  that  certain 
youthful  hot-heads,  led  by  "  a  pair  of  Yorkshire  gallants, 
one  of  whom  was  like  unto  Gog  himself,"  should  have 
stormed  the  house  of  the  Spanish  Ambassador  in  order 
to  rescue  the  two  girls.  The  royal  prerogative,  already 
in  grave  dispute,  was  sadly  abused  by  this  disorder,  and 
Gondomar  was  well  fitted,  by  diplomatic  skill  and 

[30] 


The  Great  Mogul 

political  acumen,  to  make  the  most  of  the  incident. 
When  Sir  Thomas  thought  of  the  way  in  which  James, 
with  his  dagger-proof  doublet  unfastened  and  his  points 
tied  awry,  would  stamp  up  and  down  his  council- 
chamber  in  maundering  rage,  the  color  fled  from  his 
ruddy  cheeks  and  left  him  pallid,  with  drawn  under  lip. 

Nevertheless,  when  he  reached  the  house  of  Alderman 
Cave,  situate  on  the  north  side  of  Draper's  Garden, 
his  natural  dread  of  the  King's  wrath  soon  yielded  to 
indignation.  He  found  there  not  only  Anna  and  Elea 
nor,  but  Walter  Mowbray  and  Roger  Sainton,  with  a 
concourse  of  friends  and  neighbors  drawn  together  by 
news  of  the  outrage. 

The  old  knight's  vanity  was  not  proof  against  the 
knowledge  of  the  peril  from  which  the  girls  were  saved. 
He  swore  roundly  that  he  had  been  separated  from 
them  by  a  trick,  and  admitted  that  the  King  did  not 
want  him  at  all.  With  tears  in  his  eyes  he  thanked  the 
two  young  men  for  their  timely  aid. 

"You  will  be  the  son  of  Sir  Walter  Mowbray  who 
fell  in  the  great  sea-fight  against  the  Spanish  Armada  ?  " 
he  cried,  seizing  Walter's  hand  effusively. 

"Yes.  I  scarce  remember  my  father.  I  was  but 
five  years  old  when  he  died.  Yet  my  mother  taught 
me  to  regard  all  Spaniards  as  false  men,  so  I  scrupled 
the  less  to  take  part  against  Gondomar." 

"  Mercy-a-gad,  she  might  justly  have  given  thee 
sterner  counsel.  Thy  father  was  a  brave  and  proper 
man.  I  knew  him  well.  Were  there  more  of  the  like 
to-day  these  graceless  rogues  would  not  treat  as  cour- 

[31] 


The  Great  Mogul 

tezans  the  daughters  of  honest  folk.  And  thy  friend, 
if  he  be  not  Goliath  come  to  life,  how  is  he  known  ?  " 

"Let  me  present  to  your  worship  Master  Roger 
Sainton,  of  Wensleydale,  in  Yorkshire." 

"Ecod,  he  is  well  named.  I  warrant  him  sain 
(wholesome)  and  I  trow  he  weigheth  nearest  a  ton  of 
any  man  breathing." 

Roger,  seldom  at  a  loss  for  a  repartee,  waited  until 
the  laugh  raised  by  Sir  Thomas's  jest  had  passed. 

"  'Tis  an  empty  tun  at  this  moment,  your  Honor," 
said  he,  glancing  plainly  at  the  row  of  shining  tankards 
which  graced  a  sideboard. 

"  Where  are  those  lasses  ?  "  shouted  the  knight,  glad 
of  the  diversion  afforded  by  the  claims  of  hospitality. 
"Zounds!  Here  be  their  defenders  athirst  and  not  a 
flagon  on  the  table." 

In  truth,  Anna  and  Eleanor,  flurried  out  of  their 
self-possession  by  the  turmoil  of  the  past  hour,  had 
escaped  to  their  apartments,  whence  they  sent  the 
excuse  that  they  were  engaged  in  exchanging  their  out- 
of-door  dresses  and  cloaks  for  raiment  more  suited  to 
the  house. 

There  were  servants  in  plenty,  however,  to  bring 
wine  enough  for  a  regiment,  and  certain  city  magnates, 
arriving  about  this  time,  were  emphatic  in  their  advice 
that  Mowbray  and  Sainton  should  not  attempt  to  trav 
erse  the  Strand  a  second  time  that  day  in  their  search 
for  the  residence  of  the  North-country  nobleman  whom 
Walter  meant  to  visit. 

"A  bonny  tale  will  have  reached  his  Majesty  ere 
[32] 


The  Great  Mogul 

this,"  ran  their  comment.  "  Were  the  pair  of  you  to  be 
haled  before  him  after  Gondomar  had  poisoned  his 
mind  you  were  like  to  lose  your  right  hands  within  the 
hour  for  brawling  in  the  streets." 

"Neither  Roger  nor  I  broke  the  peace,"  protested 
Mowbray. 

"  They  say  that  one  of  you  nearly  broke  Lord  Dere- 
ham's  neck,"  put  in  a  city  sheriff,  "and  that  will  be 
held  a  grave  crime  when  recited  to  his  Majesty  by  his 
crony,  Carr  (Rochester).  No,  no,  my  lads,  bide  ye  in 
the  city  until  such  time  as  inquiry  shall  be  made  with 
due  circumspection.  The  King  hath  a  good  heart  and 
a  sound  understanding,  and  I'll  wager  my  chain  of 
office  he  shall  not  be  pleased  to  hear  that  his  name  was 
used  to  decoy  my  worthy  gossip,  Sir  Thomas  Cave, 
from  the  company  of  his  daughter  and  niece." 

This  shrewd  comment  was  greeted  with  solemn  nods 
and  winks.  The  timely  arrival  of  Alderman  Cave, 
with  the  intelligence  that  Gondomar,  summoned  from 
play  at  Beaujeu's,  had  ridden  furiously  to  Whitehall, 
determined  Mowbray  to  accept  the  safe  custody  offered 
to  him. 

Gradually  the  assemblage  dispersed.  A  man  was 
sent  to  the  Swan  Inn,  by  Holborn  Bridge,  where  the 
travelers'  nags  and  pack-horses  were  stabled.  Hence, 
ere  supper  was  served,  Walter  wore  garments  of  livelier 
hue,  and  Roger  was  able  to  discard  his  heavy  riding 
coat  and  long  boots  for  a  sober  suit  of  homespun. 

The  girls  were  discreetly  reserved  as  to  their  adven 
ture.  True,  they  said  that  no  incivility  was  offered 

[33] 


The  Great  Mogul 

them.  For  all  they  could  tell  to  the  contrary  the 
Marquis  of  Bath  and  Sir  Harry  Revel,  who  made  their 
names  known  to  them,  had  really  saved  them  from  an 
affray  of  rowdies. 

"I  would  I  had  been  there,"  vowed  young  George 
Beeston,  who  seemed  to  resent  the  part  played  in  the 
affair  by  Mowbray  and  his  gigantic  friend. 

"A  yard  measure  is  of  little  avail  when  swords  are 
drawn,"  cried  Anna,  tartly.  The  hit  was,  perhaps, 
unworthy  of  her  wonted  good  nature,  for  Beeston  be 
longed  to  the  Linen-drapers'  Company. 

He  reddened,  but  made  no  reply,  and  Sir  Thomas 
took  up  the  cudgels  in  his  behalf:  — 

"  When  George  weds  thee,  Ann,  thou  wilt  find  that  a 
linen-draper  of  the  city  is  better  able  to  safeguard  his 
wife  than  any  mongrel  popinjay  who  flaunts  it  at 
Whitehall." 

"I  am  in  no  mind  to  wed  anyone,  father,"  said  she, 
"nor  do  I  seek  other  protection  than  yours." 

"Nay,  lass,  I  am  getting  old.  Be  not  vexed  with 
young  Master  Beeston  because  he  guessed  not  of  your 
peril." 

"I  would  brave  a  hundred  swords  to  serve  you," 
stammered  George.  Better  had  he  remained  silent. 
No  girl  likes  love-making  in  public.  Anna  seemingly 
paid  no  heed  to  his  bashful  words,  but  her  eyes  sparkled 
with  some  glint  of  annoyance. 

Roger  Sainton,  ever  more  ready  to  laugh  than  to 
quarrel,  smoothed  over  the  family  tiff  by  breaking  out 
into  a  diatribe  on  the  virtues  of  the  knight's  Brown 

[34] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Devon  ale.  Mowbray,  too,  seeing  how  the  land  lay, 
offered  more  attention  to  Mistress  Eleanor  Roe  than  to 
her  stately  cousin. 

Herein  he  only  followed  his  secret  inclination.  The 
girl's  shy  blue  eyes  and  laughing  lips  formed  a  combi 
nation  difficult  to  resist,  if  resistance  were  thought  of. 
She  was  dressed  in  simple  white.  Her  hair,  plaited  in 
the  Dutch  style,  was  tied  with  a  bow  of  blue  riband, 
nor  was  her  gown  too  long  to  hide  the  neat  shoes  of 
saffron-colored  leather  which  adorned  her  pretty  feet. 

She  wore  no  ornaments,  and  her  attire  was  altogether 
less  expensive  than  that  of  Anna  Cave.  His  own  ex 
periences  had  given  Mowbray  a  clear  knowledge  of 
domestic  values.  Judging  by  appearances,  he  thought 
that  the  house  of  Roe  was  not  so  well  endowed  with 
wealth  as  the  house  of  Cave.  He  did  not  find  the 
drawback  amiss.  He  was  young  enough,  and  suffi 
ciently  romantic  in  disposition,  to  discover  ample 
endowment  in  Eleanor's  piquant  face  and  bright,  if 
somewhat  timid,  wit. 

Anna,  who  looked  preoccupied,  quickly  upset  an 
arrangement  which  threatened  to  leave  her  and  Beeston 
to  entertain  each  other. 

It  was  not  yet  dark  when  the  supper  was  ended. 
Anna,  rising  suddenly  when  a  waiting-man  produced  a 
dust-covered  flagon  of  Alicant,  assumed  an  animated  air. 

"  I  see  you  sip  your  wine  rather  than  drink  it,  Master 
Mowbray,"  she  cried.  "Will  you  not  join  Nellie  and 
me  in  the  garden,  and  leave  to  these  graver  gentlemen 
the  worship  of  Bacchus  ?  " 

[35] 


The  Great  Mogul 

"Aye,"  growled  George  Beeston,  spurred  into  a  dis 
play  of  spirit,  "though  Venus  may  be  coy  the  god  of 
wine  never  refuses  his  smile." 

"Take  an  old  man's  advice,  George,"  said  Sir 
Thomas  confidentially,  "and  never  seek  to  woo  a  girl 
with  a  glum  face." 

"Better  still,"  said  Roger,  reaching  for  the  flagon, 
"wait  until  she  woos  thee.  Gad,  a  woman  plagues  a 
man  sufficiently  after  he  is  wed  that  his  heart  should 
ache  before  the  knot  is  tied." 

"If  your  heart  ached,  Master  Sainton,  its  size 
would  render  the  ailment  of  much  consequence,"  said 
Eleanor. 

"Mayhap  'tis  like  an  August  mushroom,  which, 
when  overgrown,  hath  the  consistency  of  hide,"  he 
answered,  and  his  jolly  laugh  caused  even  young 
Beeston  to  smile. 

"Roger  and  I  were  bred  together,"  said  Mowbray, 
as  he  walked  with  the  two  girls  into  the  small  public 
garden  which  faced  the  house.  "  I  vow  he  never  cared 
for  woman  other  than  his  mother." 

"  Belike  it  is  the  fashion  in  Wensleydale,"  was  Anna's 
comment. 

"  Nay,  Mistress  Cave,  such  fashion  will  not  commend 
itself  anywhere.  Certes,  I  have  observed  that  it  does 
not  prevail  in  London." 

This  with  a  glance  at  Eleanor,  but  the  retort  told 
Anna  that  although  Mowbray  came  from  the  shires 
his  wits  were  not  dull. 

As  his  hostess,  however,  she  curbed  the  inclination 
[36] 


The  Great  Mogul 

to  make  some  one  suffer  vicariously  for  poor  George 
Beeston. 

"  May  I  make  bold  to  ask  if  you  seek  advancement  at 
court?"  she  inquired  civilly. 

"Yes,  if  it  help  one  at  court  to  wish  to  fight  for  his 
Majesty.  That  is  my  desire.  After  much  entreaty, 
my  mother  allowed  me  to  travel  hither,  in  the  hope  that 
my  distant  kinsman,  the  Earl  of  Beverley,  might  pro 
cure  me  the  captaincy  of  a  troop  of  horse.  As  for 
Roger,  his  mother  was  my  mother's  foster-sister,  so 
the  worthy  dame  sent  her  son  to  take  care  of  me." 

"What  will  the  good  ladies  say  when  they  hear  that 
you  had  not  been  in  London  an  hour  ere  you  stormed 
Gondomar's  house  to  succor  a  couple  of  silly  wenches  ?  " 
put  in  Eleanor. 

"My  mother  will  remember  that  my  father  lamed 
two  men  who  sought  to  stop  their  wedding,  but  Mistress 
Sain  ton  will  clap  her  hands  and  cry,  'Mercy  o'  me! 
what  manner  o'  fules  be  those  Spaniards  that  they 
didna  run  when  they  set  eyes  on  my  Roger?  They 
mun  be  daft!'" 

His  ready  reproduction  of  the  Yorkshire  dialect 
brought  a  laugh  to  their  lips;  it  aided  Eleanor  in  no 
small  degree  to  hide  the  blush  which  mantled  her  fair 
cheeks  when  Walter  so  aptly  turned  the  tables  on  her. 

But  Anna,  if  restrained  in  her  own  behalf,  thought 
that  this  young  spark's  wooing  of  her  friend  should  be 
curbed. 

"There  was  purpose  in  your  father's  prowess,"  she 
said.  "Sir  Harry  Revel  told  me  he  wished  us  no 

[37] 


The  Great  Mogul 

indignity,  so,  perchance,  you  erred  in  your  boldness, 
though,  indeed,  I  do  not  cavil  at  it." 

"  Sir  Harry  Revel  lied.  When  I  meet  the  fop  I  shall 
tell  him  so." 

"Nay,  nay.  You  take  me  too  seriously.  I  pray 
you  forget  my  banter.  It  would  ill  requite  your  service 
were  careless  words  of  mine  to  provoke  another  en 
counter." 

"For  my  part,  I  plead  with  you  on  behalf  of  the 
Marquis  of  Bath.  He  is  but  a  goose,  though  he  carries 
the  feathers  of  a  peacock,"  added  Nellie. 

In  their  talk  they  passed  along  the  north  side  of  the 
garden.  Here,  a  number  of  trees  gave  grateful  shade 
in  the  daytime.  A  wall  beyond,  with  foliage  peeping 
over  it,  showed  that  another  smaller  enclosure,  belong 
ing  to  some  civic  dignitary,  occupied  one  of  the  few 
open  spaces  remaining  within  the  city  defenses. 

At  this  moment,  though  darkness  had  not  yet  fallen, 
the  gloom  cast  by  the  trees  rendered  persons  near  at 
hand  indistinct.  Their  voices  must  have  given  warning 
of  their  coming,  for  a  tall  cavalier,  wrapped  in  a  cloak, 
suddenly  stepped  from  behind  a  broad-beamed  elm. 

"  Anna ! "  he  said,  "  and  Nellie !  But  whom  else  have 
we  here  ?  " 

The  girls  started,  and  Mowbray  would  have  resented 
the  newcomer's  manner  had  not  Eleanor  cried :  — 

"My  brother!" 

Anna,  too,  quickly  intervened. 

"This  is  Master  Walter  Mowbray,"  she  said,  "and 
his  breeding,  no  less  than  the  help  he  rendered  so  freely 

[38] 


The  Great  Mogul 

to-day,  warrants  more  courteous  greeting  from  Sir 
Thomas  Roe." 

The  stranger,  a  young  man  of  dignified  appearance, 
made  such  amends  for  the  abruptness  of  his  challenge 
that  Mowbray  wondered  how  it  happened  that  so 
elegant  and  polished  a  gentleman  should  have  startled 
two  ladies  with  a  peremptory  challenge. 

Soon  this  bewilderment  passed.  They  strolled  on  in 
company,  and  they  had  not  been  discoursing  five  min 
utes  before  he  discovered  that  Sir  Thomas  Roe  was 
favored  of  Anna  if  young  Beeston  was  favored  of  her 
father. 

A  certain  reluctance  on  their  part  to  return  to  the 
more  open  part  of  the  garden  did  not  escape  him,  and, 
although  there  was  no  actual  pairing  off,  he  found  little 
difficulty  in  addressing  his  conversation  exclusively  to 
the  bewitching  Eleanor. 

In  the  half  light  of  evening  she  was  fairy-like,  a 
living  dream  of  beauty,  a  coy  sprite,  who  laughed,  and 
teased,  and  tantalized  by  her  aloof  propinquity.  It  was 
strange,  too,  that  a  youngster  who  could  hold  his  own 
so  fairly  in  an  encounter  of  wits  with  Anna  should 
be  suddenly  overtaken  by  one-syllable  bashfulness  when 
left  alone  with  Eleanor.  Yet,  if  Master  Mowbray's 
confusion  were  inexplicable,  what  subtle  craft  can  dis 
sipate  the  mystery  of  Nellie  Roe's  change  of  manner  ? 
From  being  shy,  she  became  pert.  She  seemed  to  pass 
with  a  bound  from  demure  girlhood  to  delightful  woman 
hood.  "When  Walter  strove  to  rally  her  with  an  apt 
retort  she  overwhelmed  him  with  a  dozen.  Her  eyes 

[39] 


met  his  and  looked  him  out  of  face.  It  might  be  that 
the  presence  of  her  brother  gave  her  confidence,  that 
the  sweet  gloaming  of  a  summer's  eve  enchanted  her, 
that  the  day's  adventures  flashed  a  new  and  wondrous 
picture  into  the  undimmed  mirror  of  her  mind.  What 
ever  the  cause,  Mowbray  was  vanquished  utterly,  and, 
being  of  soldierly  stock,  he  recognized  his  defeat. 

There  came  to  him,  in  that  magic  garden,  the  first 
dazzling  vision  of  love.  Never  before  had  he  met  a 
maid  to  whom  his  heart  sang  out  the  glad  tidings  that 
here  was  his  mate.  Somehow,  the  wondrous  discovery, 
though  it  thrilled  his  very  soul,  sobered  his  thoughts. 
And  then,  with  quick  alternation  of  mood,  he  found  his 
tongue  again,  and  behold,  Mistress  Roe  must  fain 
listen,  with  many  a  sigh  and  sympathetic  murmur, 
whilst  he  poured  forth  his  day-dreams  of  founding  anew 
the  fortunes  of  his  house. 

Ah,  those  summer  nights,  when  hearts  are  virginal: 
they  are  old  as  Paradise,  young  as  yester  eve! 

Unhappily,  true  love  does  not  always  find  a  rose- 
strewn  path.  Absorbed  though  they  were  in  their  talk, 
and  ever  drawing  nearer  until  a  rounded  arm  touched 
by  chance  was  now  pressed  with  reassuring  confidence, 
they  could  not  help  seeing,  when  they  met  Anna  and 
Sir  Thomas  Roe  in  a  little  open  space,  that  the  lady  had 
been  crying. 

Indeed,  she  herself  made  no  secret  of  it,  but  bravely 
carried  off  the  situation  by  vowing  that  old  friends 
should  never  say  "  Good-by." 

"  Here  is  your  brother,  Nell,  come  to  tell  us  that  he 
[40] 


The  Great  Mogul 

sails  forthwith  for  some  far-off  land  he  calls  Guiana," 
she  cried,  striving  to  laugh  in  order  to  hide  the  nervous 
break  in  her  voice.  "Not  content  with  that,  he  must 
need  add  that  he  hopes  to  discover  the  limits  of  that 
wild  river  of  the  Amazons,  as  if  there  were  greater 
fortunes  for  men  of  intelligence  in  savage  countries  than 
in  our  own  good  city." 

"  Can  it  be  true  that  you  leave  us  so  soon  ? "  cried 
Eleanor,  disengaging  her  arm  from  Mowbray's  hand  in 
quick  alarm. 

"  It  is,  indeed,  but  a  matter  of  hours,"  he  said  lightly. 
"I  did  but  break  in  on  your  after-supper  stroll  to  ask 
your  fair  gossip  for  some  token  which  should  cheer  my 
drooping  spirits  by  kind  remembrance  when  England 
shall  have  sunk  below  the  line." 

"  A  most  reasonable  request,"  put  in  Walter.  "  Had 
I  another  such  keepsake  from  a  lady  whom  I  honor 
most  highly  I  would  seek  the  further  privilege  of  going 
with  you  on  your  travels." 

"  Lack-a-day !  at  this  rate  we  shall  lose  every  youth 
of  our  acquaintance,"  said  Anna,  who  found  in  excited 
speech  the  safest  outlet  for  her  emotions.  "  Yet,  lest  it 
be  said  that  I  would  restrain  young  gentlemen  of  spirit 
who  would  fain  wander  abroad,  I  have  here  a  memento 
of  myself  which  Sir  Thomas  Roe  shall  carry  as  a  talis 
man  against  all  barbarians." 

She  took  from  beneath  a  ruff  of  lace  on  her  breast  a 
small  oval  object  which  was  fastened  by  a  tiny  gold 
chain  around  her  neck.  Even  in  the  dim  light  they 
could  see  it  was  a  miniature. 

[41] 


The  Great  Mogul 

"It  is  the  work  of  that  excellent  painter,  Master 
Isaac  Olliver,"  she  added  hastily,  "and,  from  what  I 
know  of  his  skill,  I  vow  his  brush  was  worthy  of  a  better 
subject." 

"Anna,  it  is  your  own  portrait!"  cried  Roe. 

"  Indeed,  would  any  woman  give  you  the  picture  of 
another  ?  " 

"Not  unless  she  wished  me  well  and  gave  me 
yours." 

"Have  you  also  sat  to  this  Master  Olliver?"  whis 
pered  Mowbray  to  Eleanor. 

'  'Tis  clear  you  come  from  the  country,  sir.  His 
repute  is  such  that  to  procure  one  of  his  miniatures 
would  cost  me  my  dress  for  a  year  or  more." 

"Then  he  has  not  seen  you,  or,  being  an  artist,  he 
would  beseech  you  to  inspire  his  pencil." 

Already  they  were  alone  again,  for  Roe  and  his  lady 
might  reasonably  be  expected  to  say  something  in 
privacy  concerning  that  painting,  and  there  is  no  telling 
what  topic  Walter  would  have  pursued  with  Eleanor,  his 
dumbness  having  passed  away  wholly,  had  not  the 
noise  of  some  one  running  hastily  in  their  direction 
along  the  gravel  path  drawn  the  four  together  with  the 
men  in  front. 

It  was  now  nearly  dark,  and  they  knew  not,  until  he 
was  upon  them,  that  the  individual  in  such  urgency 
was  George  Beeston. 

"Master  Mowbray!"  he  called  out,  "Master  Mow- 
bray,  an  you  be  in  the  company,  I  pray  you  answer.'* 

"Here  I  am.     Is  aught  amiss?" 
[42] 


The  Great  Mogul 

"But  there  is  another,  yet  I  left  your  good  friend 
Sainton  at  the  door?" 

"We  are  accompanied  by  Sir  Thomas  Roe,  with 
whom  you  are  acquainted,"  intervened  Anna,  in  the 
clear,  cold  accents  which  were  but  too  familiar  in 
Beeston's  ears. 

"Ah!" 

The  little  word  meant  a  good  deal,  but  the  young 
man  was  too  single-minded  to  seek  a  quarrel  with  a 
rival  at  that  moment.  Gulping  back  the  bitter  ex 
clamation  which  rose  to  his  lips,  he  said  quietly :  — 

"I  am  glad  it  is  none  other.  Here  be  ill  news  to 
hand.  The  King  has  sent  officers  demanding  the 
instant  rendition  of  two  strangers,  one  Mowbray  by 
name  and  the  other  a  maniac  of  monstrous  growth,  who 
committed  grave  default  to-day  without  the  confines 
of  the  city.  The  requisition  is  made  in  proper  form, 
under  his  Majesty's  sign  manual.  The  sheriff  cannot 
withstand  it.  He  hath  sent  a  privy  warning,  and  he 
comes  hither  with  some  pomp  quick  on  the  heels  of  his 
messenger." 

"Then  the  King's  orders  must  be  obeyed.  What 
sayeth  Sir  Thomas  Cave  ?  "  said  Mowbray. 

"His  worship  is  greatly  perturbed.  He  fears  that 
Gondomar  has  poisoned  the  King's  mind.  You  had 
best  consult  with  him  instantly." 

"The  sheriff  did  not  give  warning  without  motive," 

said  Sir  Thomas  Roe.     "  He  conveyed  a  hint  that  those 

he    sought    had    better    be    absent.     Unhappily,    Sir 

Thomas  Cave  would  not  be  pleased  by  my  presence  in 

[43] 


The  Great  Mogul 

his  house,  or  I  would  accompany  you.  Nevertheless, 
I  advise  you  to  avoid  arrest." 

"Tell  us,  brother  dear,  ho  w  this  can  be  accomplished." 

There  was  a  tremulous  anxiety  in  Eleanor  Roe's 
question  that  sent  a  thrill  of  joy  through  one  listener  at 
least.  Unnoticed  in  the  darkness,  Walter  sought  and 
pressed  her  hand. 

Again  Roe's  natural  air  of  domination  made  itself 
felt.  Even  Beeston,  who  would  gladly  have  run  him 
through  the  body,  found  himself  waiting  for  his  sage 
counsel. 

"Return,  all  of  you,  to  the  dwelling,"  said  Roe. 
"Let  Master  Mowbray  bring  his  friend  hither,  and  I 
shall  vconduct  them  both  to  a  place  of  safety.  None 
need  know  of  my  presence  here.  If  Master  Beeston 
desires  an  explanation  thereof  I  shall  accord  it  fittingly 
hereafter." 

"  For  my  part  I  shall  be  equally  ready  to  receive  it, 
when  these  Yorkshire  gentlemen  are  provided  for," 
said  Beeston. 

"Then  these  polite  rejoinders  are  needless,"  cried 
Anna  softly,  "for  Sir  Thomas  Roe  sails  forthwith  for 
the  Spanish  main.  Come !  No  more  idle  words.  Our 
feet  are  more  needed  than  our  tongues." 

They  raced  away  together,  Walter  thinking  no  harm 
in  helping  Nellie  by  catching  hold  of  her  slender  wrist. 

They  found  Sir  Thomas  Cave's  house  in  some  dis 
order  of  frightened  domestics.  The  knight  himself  was 
raging  at  the  garden  door. 

"A  nice  thing,"  he  roared  at  the  girls,  "gadding  about 
[44] 


The  Great  Mogul 

among  the  bushes  and  gilliflowers  when  men's  lives  are 
at  stake.  Here  be  arquebusiers  by  the  score  come 
from  Whitehall—" 

"  Where  is  Sainton  ? "  demanded  Mowbray,  wishful 
to  cut  short  any  discussion  that  threatened  to  waste 
time. 

"  Gone  to  don  his  suit  of  leather.  He  says  he  has  no 
mind  to  see  his  mother's  good  homespun  cut  by  steel 
bodkins.  Gad !  he  is  a  proper  man.  But  this  is  a  bad 
business,  Master  Mowbray.  I  pray  you  demand  fair 
trial,  yet  anger  not  the  King  by  repartee.  He  is  fair 
enough  when  the  harpies  about  him  leave  him  to  his 
pleasure.  I  have  some  little  favor  at  court.  It  shall 
be  exerted  to*  the  utmost,  and  backed  by  my  last  penny 
if  need  be.  Never  shall  it  be  said  that  I  left  my  daugh 
ter's  protectors  to  languish  in  gaol,  maimed  for  life, 
without  striving  with  all  my  power  — " 

"  Never  fash  yourself  about  us,  most  excellent  host," 
roared  Sainton,  appearing  behind  the  distressed  old 
gentleman.  "Friend  Mowbray  and  I  can  win  our 
way  out  of  London  as  we  won  our  way  into  it.  Me- 
thinks  'tis  a  place  that  has  little  liking  for  honest  men, 
saving  those  who,  like  your  worship,  are  forced  to  bide 
in  it." 

Seizing  the  cue  thus  unconsciously  given  by  Roger, 
Walter  said  hurriedly :  — 

"  We  bid  you  Godspeed,  my  worthy  friend,  and  hope 
some  day  to  see  you  again.  Farewell,  Mistress  Anna. 
Come,  Roger.  I  think  I  hear  the  clank  of  steel  in  the 
distance." 

[45] 


The  Great  Mogul 

"My  soul,  whither  will  you  hie  yourselves  at  this 
hour  ?  "  gasped  Sir  Thomas. 

"We  can  strive  to  avoid  arrest,  and  that  is  a  point 
gained.  Forgive  me!  Lights  are  dangerous." 

He  seized  a  lantern  held  by  a  serving-man  and  blew 
out  the  flame.  Instantly  he  clasped  Eleanor  Roe 
around  the  waist  and  kissed  her  on  the  lips.  She  was 
so  taken  by  surprise  that  she  resisted  not  at  all,  even 
lifting  her  pretty  face,  in  sheer  wonderment,  it  might  be. 

"Good-by,  sweetheart,"  he  whispered.  "I  shall 
see  you  again,  if  all  the  King's  men  made  a  cordon 
about  you." 

Then  Roger  and  he  vanished  among  the  trees,  while 
a  loud  knocking  disturbed  the  quietude  of  the  night  in 
the  street  which  adjoined  the  gardens. 


[46] 


CHAPTER  IV 

"The  Philistines  be  upon  thee,  Samson." 

Judges  xvi.  9. 

FOR  the  first  time  in  his  life  Mowbray  felt  the  tremor 
of  a  woman's  kiss.  Naturally,  in  an  age  when  kissing 
was  regarded,  save  by  husbands  and  jealous  lovers,  as 
a  mere  expression  of  esteem,  his  lips  had  met  those  of 
many  a  pretty  girl  during  a  village  revel  or  when  the 
chestnuts  exploded  on  the  hearth  of  an  All  Hallow's 
Eve.  Yet  there  was  an  irresistible  impulse,  a  silent 
avowal,  in  the  manner  of  his  leave-taking  of  Eleanor 
Roe  that  caused  the  blood  to  tingle  in  his  veins  with  the 
rapture  of  a  new  delight.  For  a  few  paces  he  trod  on 
air. 

Big  Roger,  recking  little  of  these  lover-like  raptures, 
brought  him  back  to  earth  with  a  question :  — 

"Had  we  not  better  seek  the  open  streets  than 
scramble  through  these  uncertain  trees,  friend  Walter  ?  " 

"Forgive  me.  I  should  have  told  you  that  one 
awaits  us  here." 

"  Marry !     Is  the  refuge  planned  already  ? " 

"I  know  not.  Hist,  now,  a  moment,  and  we  shall 
soon  be  wiser." 

They  stood  in  silence  for  a  few  seconds.  They  heard 
the  clash  of  accouterments  and  the  champing  of  bits 

[47] 


The  Great  Mogul 

from  the  cavalcade  halted  outside  Alderman  Cave's 
door. 

"F  faith,"  growled  Roger,  "his  most  gracious 
Majesty  hath  sent  an  army  to  apprehend  us.  Yet,  if 
you  be  not  misled,  he  bids  fair  to  be  no  better  off  than 
Waltham's  calf,  which  ran  nine  miles  to  suck  a  bull 
and  came  home  athirst." 

"I  pray  you  cease.  Sir  Thomas!  Sir  Thomas 
Roe!" 

At  the  call  a  figure  advanced  from  amidst  the  trees. 

"Grant  me  your  pardon,  Master  Mowbray,"  came 
the  polite  response.  "  I  was  not  prepared  to  encounter 
a  son  of  Anak  in  your  company.  I  had  grave  design 
to  climb  the  wall  speedily  when  I  saw  your  giant  com 
rade  dimly  outlined.  It  will  be  a  matter  of  no  small 
difficulty  to  pilot  him  unobserved  through  the  city." 

"Show  me  the  North  Road  and  I'll  make  my  own 
gait,"  said  Roger. 

"Nay,  that  is  not  my  intent.  I  was,  in  foolish  par 
lance,  thinking  aloud.  Difficulties  exist  only  that  reso 
lute  men  may  surmount  them.  I  do  not  decry  your 
length  of  limb,  good  sir.  Rather  would  I  avail  myself 
of  it.  Behind  these  bushes  there  is  a  wall  of  such 
proportions  that  your  height  alone  will  enable  us  to 
scale  it  without  noise.  Now,  Master  Mowbray,  up  on 
your  friend's  shoulders.  I  will  follow  suit.  Between 
the  two  of  us  we  shall  hoist  him  after." 

Roe's  cool  demeanor  inspired  them  with  confidence. 
Though  it  was  now  so  dark,  owing  to  storm-clouds 
having  banked  up  from  the  west,  that  they  had  to 

[48] 


The  Great  Mogul 

grope  their  path  through  the  undergrowth,  they  obeyed 
his  directions.  All  three  were  seated  astride  a  ten-foot 
wall  without  much  delay. 

That  they  had  not  acted  an  instant  too  soon  was 
evident  from  the  fact  that  already  armed  men  carrying 
torches  were  spreading  fan-wise  across  Draper's  Gar 
den  from  the  Caves's  house,  and  they  heard  a  loud  voice 
bellowing  from  the  private  doorway :  — 

"  I  call  on  all  liege  men  and  true  to  secure  the  arrest 
of  two  malefactors  who  have  but  now  escaped  from  this 
dwelling." 

Mowbray  found  himself  wondering  why  the  hue  and 
cry  had  been  raised  so  promptly.  Some  one  must  have 
indicated  the  exact  place  where  he  and  Roger  had  dis 
appeared.  But  Roe  dropped  from  the  wall  on  the 
other  side  and  whispered  up  to  them :  — 

"Follow!    It  is  soft  earth." 

"Hold  by  the  wall,"  he  murmured  when  they  stood 
by  his  side.  "It  leads  to  a  wicket." 

Walking  in  Indian  file  they  quickly  passed  into  a 
narrow  court.  Thence,  threading  many  a  dark  alley 
and  tortuous  by-street,  stopping  always  at  main  thor 
oughfares  until  their  guide  signaled  that  the  way  was 
clear,  they  crossed  the  city  towards  the  river.  Roe 
knew  London  better  than  the  watch.  Seemingly,  he 
could  find  the  track  blindfold,  and  Walter  guessed  that 
the  cavalier  often  used  this  device  in  order  to  encounter 
Anna  Cave  unseen  by  others.  It  was  passing  strange 
that  Nellie  should  be  an  inmate  of  a  house  where  her 
brother  was  so  unwelcome.  However,  this  was  no 

[49] 


The  Great  Mogul 

hour  to  push  inquiries.  He  was  now  utterly  lost  as  to 
locality,  and  he  awaited,  with  some  curiosity,  the  out 
come  of  this  nocturnal  wandering  through  the  most 
ancient  part  of  London. 

At  last,  the  close  air  of  the  alleys  gave  place  to  a 
fresher  draft,  and  his  quick  ear  caught  the  plash  of 
water. 

"Guard  your  steps  here,"  said  Roe.  "The  stairs 
are  not  of  the  best,  but  they  will  bear  your  weight  if 
you  proceed  with  caution." 

He  appeared  to  vanish  through  a  trap-door  in  a  small 
jetty.  Down  in  the  impenetrable  darkness  they  heard 
him  say:  — 

"  I  have  flint  and  steel,  yet,  if  you  give  me  your  hand, 
I  can  dispense  with  a  light." 

Thus,  with  exact  directions,  he  seated  them  safely  in 
a  boat,  and,  controlling  the  craft  by  retaining  touch 
with  the  beams  of  the  wharf,  after  gliding  through  the 
gloom  for  a  few  yards  he  was  able  to  ply  a  pair  of  oars 
in  the  stream.  Neither  of  the  others  had  been  on  the 
Thames  at  night  —  Roger  had  not  even  seen  the  river 
before  —  and  so,  when  the  oarsman  vigorously  impelled 
the  wherry  straight  into  what  looked  like  a  row  of  tall 
houses,  with  lights  in  some  of  the  upper  windows,  the 
North-country  youths  thought  for  sure  they  would 
collide  violently  with  the  foundations.  They  were 
minded  to  cry  a  warning,  but  seeing  that  Roe  glanced 
frequently  over  his  shoulder  they  refrained. 

Thus,  they  shot  under  one  of  the  many  arches  of 
London  Bridge,  covered  then  throughout  its  length  by 

[50] 


tall  buildings,  and,  once  they  were  speeding  in  mid 
stream  of  the  open  river,  they  saw  a  forest  of  masts 
rising  dimly  in  front. 

Ere  long,  Sir  Thomas  Roe,  who  exercised  sailor-like 
skill  in  the  management  of  his  oars,  picked  out  one  of 
the  innumerable  company  of  ships  and  lay  to  under  the 
vessel's  quarter. 

"Defiance  ahoy!"  he  cried  softly. 

"Aye,  aye,"  replied  a  voice,  and  a  rope  ladder  fell  into 
the  boat.  Whilst  Roe  held  it  his  companions  clam 
bered  aloft,  gaining  the  deck  of  a  fair-sized  merchantman 
where  watch  was  kept  by  a  number  of  sailors. 

It  chanced  that  Sainton  mounted  first,  and  a  lantern 
flashed  into  his  eyes.  As  he  became  visible,  by  feet  at 
a  time,  for  he  stood  nearly  seven  feet  high,  the  man 
holding  the  light  fell  back  in  amazed  fear. 

"Avaunt  thee!"  he  roared.  "Up  pikes  to  repel 
boarders!  Here  be  the  devil  himself  come  to  murther 
us!" 

"  Peace,  fellow,"  said  Roger,  "  when  Old  Nick  visits 
thee  he  shall  not  need  to  come  in  the  guise  of  an  honest 
man.  Yet,  I  warrant  thee,  Sir  Thomas  Roe  shall  play 
the  devil  when  he  comes  aboard  if  thou  makest  such  a 
row  without  better  cause." 

Mowbray's  appearance,  with  Roe  close  on  his  heels, 
quelled  the  excitement  of  the  watch.  A  few  sharp 
words  recalled  them  to  their  duties.  The  ladder  was 
hoisted  in  and  the  boat  secured  with  a  painter,  whilst 
Roe  led  the  newcomers  to  the  after  cabin,  where,  over 
a  flagon  of  wine,  he  sought  their  better  acquaintance. 

[51] 


Mowbray  gave  him  a  detailed  account  of  all  that  had 
taken  place,  and  Roe's  finely-chiseled  face  flushed 
deeply  when  he  heard  the  true  extent  of  the  outrage 
planned  by  the  band  of  young  gallants. 

"I  have  no  wish  to  defend  Gondomar,"  he  said 
slowly,  seeming  to  compel  reason  to  master  rage.  "  He 
has  brought  the  Inquisition  to  England.  He  carries 
our  worthy  King  in  his  pocket.  Yet  I  would  fain  be 
lieve  that  he  is  too  wary  and  prudent  to  countenance 
such  doings  at  the  very  gates  of  the  city,  which  he  fears 
alone  in  all  England." 

"  To  be  just,  I  believe  he  was  not  present.  Neverthe 
less,  word  came  to  Sir  Thomas  Cave  that  when  tidings 
of  the  affair  reached  him,  he  rose  instantly  from  play 
at  Beaujeu's  and  hastened  to  Whitehall  to  demand  our 
arrest." 

"Ah,  it  is  a  bad  business.  I  am  much  bounden  to 
you.  You  know  that  one  of  these  girls  is  my  youngest 
sister.  The  other  I  prize  dearer  than  life  itself.  Yet, 
unless  you  and  Master  Sainton  agree  to  sail  with  me  on 
this  ship  to  the  Amazons  I  fear  that  naught  can  save 
you  from  the  King's  wrath.  I  am  powerless,  being  in 
ill  repute  at  court.  The  city  is  strong,  but  unwilling, 
as  yet,  to  openly  defy  the  thieves  and  adulterers  who 
pander  to  James's  vanities  and  stop  his  ears  to  the 
representations  of  God-fearing  men.  This  cannot  en 
dure.  Our  people  are  long-suffering  but  mighty  in  their 
wrath.  If  Elizabeth  ruled  with  a  strong  hand  she  ever 
strove  to  advance  the  honor  of  England  and  to  safe 
guard  the  liberties  of  her  subjects.  Now  our  flag  is 

[52] 


The  Great  Mogul 

trailed  in  the  mud.  We  are  treated  with  contumely 
abroad  and  our  protests  at  home  are  stifled  by  the  Star 
Chamber.  It  must  end.  It  shall  end.  Monarchy 
itself  shall  rot  ere  England  perishes!" 

These  were  dangerous  words.  They  lost  none  of 
their  tremendous  import  when  uttered  by  a  man  of 
such  statesman-like  qualities  that  Anthony  a  Wood 
wrote  of  him  long  afterwards :  "  Those  who  knew  him 
well  have  said  that  there  was  nothing  wanting  in  him 
towards  the  accomplishment  of  a  scholar,  gentleman, 
or  courtier." 

It  was  inevitable  that  the  opinion  of  such  an  one 
should  weigh  deeply  with  young  Mowbray,  and  impress 
even  the  less  critical  brains  of  Roger  Sain  ton.  Roe's 
appearance,  no  less  than  his  impassioned  outburst, 
would  have  won  the  credence  of  any  well-bred  youths 
in  the  Kingdom.  In  face,  in  figure,  and  indeed  in 
many  of  his  attributes,  he  resembled  that  gallant  and 
high-minded  adventurer  of  an  earlier  generation,  Sir 
Walter  Raleigh,  who  was  now  a  close  prisoner  in  the 
Tower.  He  had  the  bright,  penetrating  eyes,  the  long, 
aquiline  nose,  firm  mouth,  and  well-molded  chin  which 
bespeak  good  birth  and  high  intelligence.  A  mass  of 
brown  hair  waved  over  a  lofty  forehead  and  fell  in 
ringlets  on  his  neck.  He  wore  the  mustaches  and 
Vandyke  tuft  of  beard  affected  by  gentlemen  of  the 
period,  and  the  natural  gravity  of  his  expression  could 
be  wholly  dispelled,  when  occasion  warranted,  by  a 
smile  of  rare  humor. 

But  he  was  in  no  smiling  mood  just  then.  He  leaned 
[53] 


The  Great  Mogul 

his  head  on  his  hand  and  sighed  wearily.  Mowbray, 
notwithstanding  his  own  desperate  though  wholly  un 
merited  plight,  now  presented  to  his  eyes  in  all  its 
sinister  significance,  could  not  help  marveling  how  it 
came  about  that  the  leader  of  an  expedition  to  the 
Spanish  Main,  which  could  scarce  be  undertaken  with 
out  royal  sanction,  should  avow  himself  so  helpless  in 
that  very  circle,  while  it  was  still  more  strange  that 
Roe's  position  and  attainments  did  not  render  him  a 
favored  suitor  in  the  Cave  household. 

Moreover,  the  King  had  knighted  him,  and  Nellie 
Roe  had  said,  during  their  walk  in  the  garden,  that  her 
brother  was  a  great  friend  of  Prince  Henry,  and 
declared  laughingly  that  Anna  should  think  herself 
highly  flattered,  for  the  gossip  ran  that  Princess  Eliza 
beth  was  much  attached  to  "Honest  Tom,"  as  she 
called  him. 

Roe's  disturbed  reflections  and  Mowbray's  bewilder 
ment  alike  were  put  an  end  to  by  Roger. 

"Ecod!"  he  cried,  thumping  the  stout  table  screwed 
to  the  floor  of  the  cabin  and  making  the  tankards  dance 
under  the  blow,  "Walter  and  I  can  ask  no  better  fate 
than  to  voyage  with  you  to  the  Indies.  We  are  in  quest 
of  fortune,  and  folk  say  that  the  Spaniards  have  gold 
for  the  taking.  Here's  to  you,  Sir  Thomas  Roe,  and 
here's  to  all  of  us !  May  we  never  want  nowt,  none  of 
us!" 

He  drained  his  own  tankard  and  caused  a  gleam  of 
amusement  to  flicker  on  Roe's  face. 

"  Had  you  lost  your  right  hand  for  brawling,  Master 
[54] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Sainton,"  he  said,  "you  would  now  lose  the  left  if  the 
King  heard  your  sentiments.  Harry  a  Spaniard,  i' 
faith!  That  is  rankest  heresy  nowadays.  Yet  there 
is  no  telling  what  may  befall  when  we  set  our  course 
west  by  south  of  the  Canaries.  And  now,  let  me  see  to 
your  comfort  for  the  night." 

He  called  a  young  negro  from  the  depths  of  the  ship ; 
the  sudden  appearance  of  the  boy's  shining  black  face 
in  the  cabin  caused  Roger  Sainton  to  start  so  violently 
that  Roe  and  Mowbray  laughed,  while  the  negro  him 
self  displayed  all  his  teeth  in  a  huge  grin.  Mowbray, 
during  an  earlier  visit  to  London,  had  seen  many  a 
dark-skinned  man ;  it  was  becoming  the  fashion  to  have 
one  or  more  of  these  ebony-hued  servitors  in  each 
household  with  any  pretensions  to  grandeur.  But 
Roger  had  never  before  set  eyes  on  the  like,  and  the 
apparition  was  unexpected. 

"Gad,"  said  he,  reaching  for  the  flagon  again,  "no 
wonder  the  sailor-man  thought  he  saw  the  devil !  'Tis 
clear  he  fancied  that  this  worthy  had  fallen  overboard." 

He  stood  up,  to  follow  Roe,  whereupon  the  negro's 
astonishment  was  even  greater  than  Roger's,  for  the 
cock's  feathers  in  the  Yorkshireman's  hat  swept  the 
ceiling  of  the  cabin,  and  his  belt  was  nearly  on  a  level 
with  the  other's  chin. 

"  Where  him  one  dam  big  fighting-man  Ire,  sir  ?  "  said 
the  black  to  Roe.  "  Dere  am  no  bunk  in  the  ship  will 
hold  him  half." 

Indeed,  this  was  a  minor  difficulty  which  had  not  been 
foreseen.  In  his  own  cabin,  which  Roe  intended  to 

[55] 


The  Great  Mogul 

place  temporarily  at  their  service,  there  were  two  bunks, 
but  each  was  a  full  twelve  inches  too  short  for  Sainton. 
They  were  stoutly  built,  too,  of  solid  oak  and  abutting 
on  strong  lockers.  The  only  way  in  which  one  of  them 
could  be  made  to  serve  his  needs  was  to  cut  away  the 
partition,  and  it  was  now  a  very  late  hour  to  seek  the 
services  of  the  ship's  carpenter. 

"If  that  is  the  only  drawback,  it  is  solved  most 
readily,"  said  Roger,  and,  with  his  clenched  fist, 
guarded  only  by  a  leather  glove,  he  smashed  a  strong 
oaken  panel  out  of  its  dovetailed  joints. 

The  negro's  eyes  nearly  fell  out  with  amazement, 
and,  indeed,  Sir  Thomas  Roe  was  not  prepared  for  this 
simple  yet  very  unusual  feat  of  sheer  strength. 

"  That  blow  would  have  felled  an  ox,"  he  cried,  and 
Mowbray  told  him  how  Roger  once,  in  the  market 
square  of  Richmond,  had,  for  a  wager,  brought  down  an 
old  bull  with  a  straight  punch  between  the  eyes. 

Now,  the  negro  not  only  saw  and  heard,  but  he  talked 
of  these  things  to  the  watch,  and  they,  in  their  turn, 
related  them  to  others  of  the  ship's  company  in  the 
early  morning.  It  chanced  that  a  half-caste  Spanish 
cook,  hired  because  he  knew  the  speech  of  the  natives 
of  Guiana,  was  among  the  auditory,  and  he  stole  to  the 
cabin  wherein  the  two  Englishmen  lay  sleeping  soundly. 
Mere  idle  curiosity  impelled  him  to  gaze  at  the  man 
who  could  perform  such  prodigies,  and,  having  gaped 
sufficiently,  he  went  ashore  for  a  farewell  carouse  with 
certain  cronies  in  Alsatia. 

Not  the  great  men  of  the  world,  but  their  petty 
[56] 


The  Great  Mogul 

myrmidons,  are  oft  the  mainspring  of  the  events  which 
shape  the  destinies  not  alone  of  individuals  but  of 
nations.  Even  Pedro,  the  half-caste,  might  have  dis 
pensed  with  the  day's  drinking  bout  had  his  cup  been 
fashioned  of  the  magic  crystal  which  enables  credulous 
people  to  see  future  events  in  its  shadowy  mirror! 
Assuredly,  some  of  the  sights  therein  would  have  sated 
his  desire  for  stimulant. 

Mowbray  and  Sainton  were  aroused  by  an  unusual 
movement.  At  first  they  hardly  knew  where  they  were, 
and  it  was  passing  strange  that  the  floor  should  heave 
and  the  walls  creak. 

Mowbray  sprang  from  his  bunk  quickly  and  looked 
through  the  open  door  to  see  if  it  were  possible  that  the 
ship  had  cast  off  from  her  moorings  during  the  night. 
The  frowning  battlements  of  the  Tower,  dimly  visible 
through  a  pelting  rain,  showed  that  his  first  surmise  was 
incorrect.  The  Defiance  was  anchored  securely  enough, 
but  a  high  wind  had  lashed  the  river  into  turbulence, 
and  the  storm  which  threatened  over  night  had  burst 
with  fury  over  London. 

Roger,  too,  awoke. 

"  Gad,"  he  cried,  "  I  dreamt  I  was  being  hanged  as  a 
cutpurse,  and  I  felt  the  branch  of  an  oak-tree  swaying 
as  I  swung  in  the  wind." 

"  You  will  have  many  such  visions  if  you  mix  Brown 
Devon  and  Alicant  with  the  wines  of  Burgundy  in  your 
midnight  revels,"  said  Walter,  cheerfully.  To  his  or 
dered  senses  had  come  the  memory  of  the  garden  and 
Nellie  Roe's  kiss.  He  hailed  the  bad  weather  with 

[57] 


The  Great  Mogul 

glee.  Men  would  be  loth  to  stir  abroad,  and,  if  Sir 
Thomas  Roe's  arrangements  permitted,  he  could  fore 
see  another  meeting  with  Eleanor  that  evening. 

"At  times  you  talk  but  scurvy  sense,"  grumbled 
Sainton,  pulling  on  his  huge  boots.  "Tis  the  lack  of 
a  pasty,  washed  down  by  any  one  of  the  good  liquors 
you  name,  that  hath  disordered  my  stomach  and  sent 
its  fasting  vapors  to  my  brain.  By  the  cross  of  Os- 
motherly,  I  could  eat  the  haunch  of  a  horse." 

"Without  there!"  shouted  Mowbray.  "Where  is 
the  black  summoned  by  Sir  Thomas  Roe  to  wait  on 
us?" 

The  negro  came  at  the  call.  He  told  them  that  his 
master  had  gone  ashore  at  daybreak,  with  intent  to 
return  before  noon,  but  that  breakfast  awaited  their 
lordships'  pleasure  in  the  cabin. 

The  hours  passed  all  too  slowly  until  Roe  put  in  an 
appearance.  He  was  ferried  to  the  ship  in  some  state, 
in  a  boat  with  six  rowers.  He  had  learnt  that  the  city 
was  scoured  for  them  all  night,  and  the  rumor  ran  that 
they  had  escaped  towards  Barnet,  this  canard  having 
been  put  about  by  some  friendly  disposed  person. 

"I  cannot  understand  the  rancor  displayed  in  this 
matter,"  he  said.  "  King  James  must  have  been  stirred 
most  powerfully  against  you,  yet  it  is  idle  to  think  that 
you  have  earned  the  hatred  of  some  court  favorite 
already.  Perhaps  Lord  Dereham  is  seeking  revenge 
for  being  thrown  into  the  glass-house,  though,  if  rumor 
be  true,  his  Lordship  dwells  in  one,  being  a  perfect 
knave.  In  any  event,  you  must  not  be  seen,  and  I 
[58] 


The  Great  Mogul 

shall  warn  my  men  to  forget  your  very  existence.  We 
sail  with  to-morrow  morning's  tide,  and,  if  this  wind 
holds,  shall  be  clear  of  the  Downs  by  night." 

Thinking  this  speech  augured  badly  for  his  hopes, 
Mowbray  said  nothing  of  his  plan  to  visit  Cave's  house 
after  dusk. 

The  sailors,  under  Roe's  directions,  began  to  warp 
the  ship  alongside  a  wharf,  where  many  bales  of  mer 
chandise  and  barrels  of  flour,  salt  beef,  dried  fish,  pre 
served  fruit  for  scurvy,  wine,  beer,  and  the  mixed 
collection  of  stores  needed  for  a  long  voyage,  were  piled 
in  readiness  to  be  placed  in  her  hold. 

Walter,  and  Roger  especially,  were  warned  to  remain 
hidden  in  the  after  cabin,  where  none  save  the  ship's 
officers  had  business,  and  Roe  felt  that  he  could  trust 
his  subordinates,  if  for  no  better  reason  than  self- 
interest,  for  two  such  recruits  were  valuable  additions 
to  the  ship's  company. 

Though  the  confinement  was  irksome  it  was  so  ob 
viously  necessary  to  their  safety  that  they  made  the 
best  of  it. 

Walter  found  in  a  cupboard  a  ship-master's  journal 
of  a  voyage  to  Virginia,  and  entertained  Roger  with 
extracts  therefrom,  whilst  the  latter,  at  times,  stretched 
his  huge  limbs  and  hummed  a  verse  or  two  of  that  old 
song  of  Percy  and  Douglas,  which,  as  Sir  Philip  Sydney 
used  to  say,  had  the  power  to  stir  the  heart  as  a  trumpet. 

The  rain  ceased  with  the  decline  of  day.  The  mo 
notonous  clank  of  the  windlass  and  the  cries  of 
stevedores  and  sailors  gave  place  to  the  swish  of  water 

[59] 


The  Great  Mogul 

as  the  watch  washed  the  deck.  For  convenience'  sake, 
a  supply  of  fresh  water  being  the  last  thing  to  be  taken 
aboard  next  morning,  the  vessel  was  tied  up  to  the 
wharf.  When  the  tide  fell  she  was  left  high  and  dry 
on  the  mud. 

Roe  was  much  occupied  ashore  with  those  city  mer 
chants  who  helped  him  in  his  venture,  but  he  undertook 
privily  to  warn  Anna  Cave  as  to  the  whereabouts  of 
the  two  young  men  to  whom  she  was  so  greatly  indebted, 
and  they  might  leave  to  her  contriving  the  transfer  of 
their  baggage  to  the  ship  at  a  late  hour. 

"You  shall  not  see  her  again,  then?"  asked  Walter, 
with  a  faint  hope  that  her  lover  would  strain  every 
nerve  in  that  direction,  when  he  might  accompany  him. 

"  No,"  was  the  determined  answer.  "  Such  a  course 
would  be  fraught  with  risk  to  you.  I  might  be  seen  and 
followed.  Her  father's  serving-men,  coming  hither  by 
night,  will  pass  unnoticed." 

"Do  not  consider  me  in  that  respect,  I  pray  you." 

Roe  shook  his  head  and  sighed. 

"  I  am  resolved,"  he  said.  "  We  may  not  meet  until 
I  return,  if  God  wills  it.  I  told  her  as  much  last  night. 
We  said  'farewell';  let  it  rest  at  that." 

So  Walter's  heart  sank  into  his  boots,  for  the  case 
between  him  and  Nellie  rested  on  as  doubtful  a  basis 
as  that  between  Roe  and  Anna. 

He  sat  down  to  indite  a  letter  to  his  mother,  which 
Sir  Thomas  would  entrust  to  one  of  his  friends  having 
affairs  in  the  north.  Roger  could  not  write,  but  he 
sent  a  loving  message  to  Mistress  Sainton,  with  many 

[60] 


quaint  instructions  as  to  the  management  of  the  garth 
and  homestead. 

"  Tell  her,"  quoth  he,  "  that  I  be  going  across  seas  to 
reive  the  Dons,  and  that  I  shall  bring  back  to  her  a 
gold  drinking-cup  worthy  of  her  oldest  brew." 

"A  man  may  catch  larks  if  the  heavens  fall,"  com 
mented  Walter  in  Rabelais's  phrase. 

"  Or  if  he  lime  a  twig  he  may  e'en  obtain  a  sparrow. 
My  auld  mother  will  be  pleased  enough  to  see  me  if 
the  cup  be  pewter.  Write,  man,  and  cheer  her.  I'll 
warrant  you  have  vexed  Mistress  Mowbray  with  a 
screed  about  yon  wench  you  were  sparking  in  the 
garden  last  night." 

Indeed,  it  was  true.  Walter  bent  to  the  table  to  hide 
a  blush.  His  letter  dealt,  in  suspicious  detail,  with  the 
charms  and  graces  of  Nellie  Roe. 

At  last  the  missive  was  addressed  and  sealed.  It 
was  nearly  ten  o'clock,  and  London  was  quieting  down 
for  the  night,  when  the  two  quitted  their  cabin  and 
walked  to  the  larger  saloon  where  Sir  Thomas  Roe, 
with  Captain  Davis,  the  commander  of  the  Defiance, 
was  busy  with  many  documents. 

They  talked  there  a  little  while.  Suddenly  they 
heard  the  watch  hailed  by  a  boat  alongside. 

"What  ship  is  that?" 

"Who  hails?" 

"The  King's  officer." 

Roe  sprang  to  his  feet  and  rushed  out,  for  the  cabin 
was  in  the  poop,  and  the  door  was  level  with  the  main 
deck.  The  others  followed.  In  the  river,  separated 

[61] 


The  Great  Mogul 

from  the  vessel  by  a  few  feet  of  mud,  was  an  eight-oared 
barge  filled  with  soldiers. 

"  'Fore  God ! "  he  whispered  to  Mowbray,  "  they  have 
found  your  retreat." 

They  turned  towards  the  wharf.  A  company  of 
halberdiers  and  arquebusiers  had  surrounded  it  and 
already  an  officer  was  advancing  towards  the  gangway. 

"  Bid  Sainton  offer  no  resistance,"  said  Roe,  instantly. 
"At  best,  you  can  demand  fair  hearing,  and  I  will  try 
what  a  bold  front  can  do.  Remember,  you  are  sworn 
volunteers  for  my  mission  to  Guiana." 

As  well  strive  to  stem  the  water  then  rushing  up  from 
the  Nore  towards  London  Bridge  as  endeavor  to  with 
stand  the  King's  warrant.  The  officer  was  civil,  but 
inflexible.  Sorely  against  the  grain,  both  Mowbray 
and  Sainton  were  manacled  and  led  ashore. 

"Tell  me,  at  least,  whither  you  take  them,"  de 
manded  Roe.  "The  King  hath  been  misled  in  this 
matter  and  my  friends  will  seek  prompt  justice  at  his 
Majesty's  hands." 

"  My  orders  are  to  deliver  them  to  the  Tower,"  was 
the  reply. 

"  Were  you  bidden  come  straight  to  this  ship  ?  " 

There  was  no  answer.  The  officer  signified  by  a 
blunt  gesture  that  he  obeyed  orders,  but  could  give  no 
information. 

Surrounded  by  armed  men  and  torch-bearers  the 
unlucky  youths  were  about  to  be  marched  off  through 
the  crowd  of  quay-side  loiterers  which  had  gathered 
owing  to  the  presence  of  the  soldiers  —  Roe  was  bid- 

[62] 


The  Great  Mogul 

ding  them  be  of  good  cheer  and  all  should  yet  go  well 
with  them  —  when  an  unexpected  diversion  took  place. 

Standing  somewhat  aloof  from  the  mob  were  several 
men  carrying  bags  and  boxes.  With  them  were  two 
closely  cloaked  females,  and  this  little  party,  arriving 
late  on  the  scene,  were  apparently  anxious  not  to  attract 
attention.  But  the  glare  of  the  flambeaux  fell  on 
Roger's  tall  form  and  revealed  Mowbray  by  his  side. 

"Oh,  Ann,"  wailed  a  despairing  voice,  "they  have 
taken  him." 

Walter  heard  the  cry,  and  so  did  Roe.  They  knew 
who  it  was  that  spoke.  Roe,  with  a  parting  pressure 
of  Mowbray's  shoulder,  strode  off  to  comfort  his  sister, 
whilst  Mowbray  himself,  though  unable  to  use  his 
hands,  hustled  a  halberdier  out  of  the  way  and  cried :  — 

"Farewell,  Mistress  Roe.  Though  the  cordon  of 
King's  men  be  here,  yet  have  I  seen  you,  and,  God 
willing,  I  shall  not  part  from  you  so  speedily  when  next 
we  meet." 

He  knew  that  the  girls,  greatly  daring,  had  slipped 
out  with  the  men  who  carried  his  goods  and  those  of 
Sainton.  Though  his  heart  beat  with  apprehension  of 
an  ignominious  fate,  yet  it  swelled  with  pride,  too,  at 
the  thought  that  Eleanor  had  come  to  see  him. 

The  guard,  seeming  to  dread  an  attempted  rescue, 
gathered  nearer  to  their  prisoners.  A  slight  altercation 
took  place  between  Roe  and  the  officer  anent  the  dis 
position  of  the  prisoners'  effects.  Finally,  Sir  Thomas 
had  his  way,  and  their  goods  were  handed  over  to  the 
soldiers  to  be  taken  with  them. 

[63] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Then,  a  sharp  command  was  given,  the  front  rank 
lowered  their  halberds,  the  crowd  gave  way,  and  the 
party  marched  off  towards  the  Tower. 

Roger,  by  means  of  his  great  height,  could  see  clear 
over  the  heads  of  the  escort. 

"That  lass  must  be  mightily  smitten  with  thee, 
Walter,"  he  said  gruffly.  "She  would  have  fallen  like 
a  stone  had  not  Mistress  Cave  caught  her  in  her  arms." 


[64] 


CHAPTER  V 

"This  is  the  time  —  heaven's  maiden  sentinel 
Hath  quitted  her  high  watch  —  the  lesser  spangles 
Are  paling  one  by  one." 

To  understand  aright  the  mixed  feelings  of  anger  and 
dread  which  filled  the  minds  of  the  prisoners  as  they 
marched  through  the  narrow  streets  on  their  way  to  the 
Tower,  it  is  necessary  to  remember  how  the  gross 
corruption  of  the  court  of  the  first  Stuart  had  inspired 
Englishmen  with  a  scandalized  disbelief  in  the  wisdom 
of  their  sovereign.  The  Tudors  reigned  over  a  people 
who  regarded  even  their  mad  temper  with  a  half  idol 
atrous  reverence.  The  great  poet  of  the  splendid  epoch 
closed  by  the  reign  of  Elizabeth  fittingly  expressed  the 
popular  sentiment  when  he  spoke  of  "  the  divinity  that 
doth  hedge  a  King."  But  James,  a  slobbering  mon 
strosity,  at  once  shallow  and  bombastic,  claiming  by  day 
monarchical  privileges  of  the  most  despotic  nature,  and 
presiding  by  night  over  drunken  revels  of  the  most 
outrageous  license,  had  torn  beyond  repair  the  imperial 
mantle  with  which  a  chivalrous  nation  had  been  proud 
to  clothe  its  ruler. 

In  the  Puritan  north  especially  was  he  regarded  with 
fear  and  loathing.  Hence,  Mowbray  and  Sainton, 
though  prepared  to  face  with  a  jest  any  odds  in  defense 

[65] 


The  Great  Mogul 

of  their  honor  or  their  country,  could  now  only  look 
forward  to  an  ignominious  punishment,  fraught  with 
disablement  if  not  with  death  itself,  because  they  had 
dared  to  cross  the  path  of  one  of  the  King's  favorites. 
It  was  a  dismal  prospect  for  two  high-spirited  youths. 

"  We  have  brought  our  eggs  to  a  bad  market,  I  trow," 
muttered  Sainton,  as  the  gates  of  the  Tower  clanged 
behind  them  and  they  halted  in  front  of  the  guardroon, 
whilst  the  leader  of  their  escort  was  formally  handing 
them  over  to  the  captain  of  the  guard. 

"  I  fear  me  you  were  ill  advised  to  throw  in  your  lot 
with  mine,  Roger,"  was  all  that  Walter  could  find  to 
say. 

"Nay,  nay,  lad,  I  meant  no  reproach.  Sink  or 
swim,  we  are  tied  by  the  same  band.  Nevertheless, 
'tis  a  pity  I  am  parted  from  my  staff  and  you  from  your 
sword." 

"Here,  they  would  but  speed  our  end." 

"Like  enough,  yet  some  should  go  with  us." 

He  looked  about  him  with  such  an  air  that  the  hal 
berdiers  nearest  to  him  shrank  away.  Though  fet 
tered,  he  inspired  terror.  From  a  safer  distance  they 
surveyed  him  with  the  admiration  which  soldiers  know 
how  to  yield  to  a  redoubtable  adversary. 

The  troops  from  Whitehall  quickly  gave  place  to  a 
number  of  warders,  and  the  two  were  marched  off, 
expecting  no  other  lot  for  the  hour  than  a  cold  cell  and 
a  plank  bed.  They  saw,  to  their  surprise,  that  some 
of  the  men  carried  their  belongings.  This  trivial  fact 
argued  a  certain  degree  of  consideration  in  their  treat- 

[66] 


The  Great  Mogul 

ment,  and  their  hopes  rose  high  when  they  were  halted 
a  second  time  near  the  Water  Gate.  Soon,  the  sentinel 
stationed  on  the  projecting  bastion  shouted  a  challenge, 
the  chief  warder  hurried  to  his  side,  and,  after  some 
parley,  the  gate  was  thrown  open  to  admit  the  identical 
boat  which  they  had  seen  lying  alongside  the  Defiance. 
Moreover,  in  the  light  of  the  torches  carried  by  those  on 
board,  they  now  perceived  that  the  soldiers  and  rowers 
were  not  King's  men  but  Spaniards. 

The  galley  was  brought  close  to  the  flight  of  steps 
leading  down  to  the  dark  water  beneath  the  arch,  and 
the  prisoners  were  bidden  go  aboard. 

Walter  hung  back.  The  slight  hope  which  had 
cheered  him  was  dispelled  by  the  sight  of  the  Spanish 
uniforms. 

"I  demand  fair  trial  by  men  of  my  own  race,"  he 
cried.  "Why  should  we  be  handed  over  to  our  ene 
mies  ?  " 

He  was  vouchsafed  no  answer.  Sullenly,  but  without 
delay,  the  warders  hustled  him  and  Roger  towards  the 
boat.  They  could  offer  no  resistance.  Their  wrists 
were  manacled,  and,  as  a  further  precaution,  a  heavy 
chain  bound  their  arms  to  their  waists.  It  was  more 
dignified  to  submit;  they  and  their  packages  were 
stowed  in  the  center  of  the  galley ;  the  heavy  gates  were 
swung  open  once  more,  and  the  boat  shot  out  into  the 
river.  For  nearly  three  hours  they  were  pulled  down 
stream.  They  could  make  nothing  of  the  jargon  of 
talk  that  went  on  around  them.  Evidently  there  was 
some  joke  toward  anent  Roger's  size,  and  one  Spaniard 

[67] 


The  Great  Mogul 

prodded  his  ribs  lightly  with  the  butt  of  his  halberd, 
saying  in  broken  English :  — 

"Roas'  bif;good,  eh?" 

By  reason  of  his  bulk,  Sainton  seemed  to  be  clumsy, 
though  he  was  endowed  with  the  agility  of  a  deer. 
Suddenly  lifting  a  foot,  he  planted  it  so  violently  in  the 
pit  of  the  Spaniard's  stomach  that  the  humorist  turned 
a  somersault  over  a  seat.  His  comrades  laughed,  but 
the  man  himself  was  enraged.  He  regained  his  feet, 
lifted  his  halberd,  and  would  have  brained  Roger  then 
and  there  had  not  another  interposed  his  pike. 

An  officer  interfered,  and  there  was  much  furious 
gesticulation  before  the  discomfited  joker  lowered  his 
weapon.  He  shot  a  vengeful  glance  at  Roger,  however, 
and  cried  something  which  caused  further  merriment. 

What  he  said  was :  — 

"Would  that  I  might  be  there  when  the  fire  is  lit. 
You  will  frizzle  like  a  whole  ox." 

Fortunately,  the  Englishmen  knew  not  what  he 
meant.  Yet  they  were  not  long  kept  in  ignorance  of 
some  part,  at  least,  of  the  fate  in  store  for  them.  The 
galley  at  last  drew  up  under  the  counter  of  a  large  ship 
of  foreign  rig,  lying  in  the  tideway  off  Tilbury  Hope. 
With  considerable  difficulty,  in  their  bound  state,  Mow- 
bray  and  Roger  were  hoisted  aboard,  and  taken  to  a 
tiny  cabin  beneath  the  after  deck. 

Then  there  was  a  good  deal  of  discussion,  evidently 
induced  by  Roger's  proportions.  Ultimately,  a  ship's 
carpenter  drove  a  couple  of  heavy  iron  staples  into  the 
deck.  The  big  man  eyed  the  preparations,  and  had  it 

[68] 


The  Great  Mogul 

in  his  mind  to  pass  some  comment  to  Walter.  Luckily, 
his  native  shrewdness  stopped  his  tongue,  else  his 
spoken  contempt  for  the  holdfasts  might  have  led  to 
the  adoption  of  other  means  of  securing  him. 

Two  chains,  each  equipped  with  leg  manacles,  were 
fastened  to  the  staples,  and  the  bolts  were  hammered 
again  until  the  chains  were  immovably  riveted  in  the 
center.  The  prisoners  were  locked  into  the  leg-piece, 
and  their  remaining  fetters  were  removed.  These 
operations  occupied  some  time  in  accomplishments. 
They  had  been  on  board  fully  half  an  hour  before  the 
halberdiers  left  them,  and  they  did  not  know  that  a 
tall  man,  heavily  cloaked,  who  stood  behind  the 
screen  of  soldiers,  was  furtively  watching  them  through 
out. 

A  sentry,  with  drawn  sword,  was  stationed  at  the 
door  when  the  others  departed.  The  shrouded  stranger 
imperiously  motioned  him  aside  and  entered.  He 
threw  open  his  cloak.  A  tiny  lantern  swinging  from 
the  ceiling  lit  up  his  sallow,  thin  face.  The  piercing 
black  eyes,  hawk-like  nose,  and  lips  that  met  in  a 
determined  line,  would  have  revealed  his  identity  had 
not  his  garments  placed  the  matter  beyond  doubt.  It 
was  the-  Jesuit  whom  they  had  encountered  in  the 
doorway  of  Gondomar's  house. 

He  regarded  them  in  silence  for  a  moment.  Then 
he  smiled,  and  the  menace  of  his  humor  was  more 
terrible  than  many  a  man's  rage. 

"You  are  not  so  bold,  now  that  a  howling  crowd  is 
not  at  your  backs,"  he  said,  speaking  English  so  cor- 

[69] 


rectly  that  it  was  clear  he  had  dwelt  many  years  in  the 
country. 

"It  may  well  be  that  your  holiness  is  bolder  seeing 
we  are  chained  to  the  floor,"  said  Roger. 

"Peace,  fellow.  I  do  not  bandy  words  with  your 
like.  When  you  reach  Spain  you  shall  have  questions 
enough  to  answer.  You,"  he  continued,  fixing  his 
sinister  gaze  on  Walter,  "you  said  your  name  was 
Mowbray,  if  I  heard  aright?" 

"Yes.  What  quarrel  have  I  or  any  of  my  kin  with 
Gondomar  that  my  comrade  and  I  should  be  entrapped 
in  this  fashion  ?  " 

"  Your  name  is  familiar  in  my  ears.  Are  you  of  the 
same  house  as  one  Robert  Mowbray,  who  fell  on  board 
the  San  Jose  on  the  day  when  St.  Michael  and  his 
heavenly  cohorts  turned  their  faces  from  Spain  ?  " 

"If  you  speak  of  the  Armada,"  answered  \Valter 
coldly,  "  I  am  the  son  of  Sir  Robert  Mowbray,  who  was 
foully  murdered  on  board  that  vessel  by  one  of  your 
order.  Nevertheless,"  he  added,  reflecting  that  such 
a  reply  was  not  politic,  "  that  is  no  reason  why  I  should 
be  subjected  to  outrage  or  that  you  should  lend  your 
countenance  to  it.  My  friend  and  I,  who  have  done 
no  wrong,  nor  harmed  none,  save  in  defense  of  two 
ladies  beset  by  roisterers,  have  been  arrested  on  the 
King's  warrant  and  apparently  handed  over  to  the 
Spanish  authorities  because,  forsooth,  we  pursued 
certain  rascals  into  the  Ambassador's  garden." 

He  paused,  not  that  his  grievance  was  exhausted  but 
rather  that  the  extraordinary  expression  of  mingled  joy 

[70] 


The  Great  Mogul 

and  hatred  which  convulsed  the  Jesuit's  face  told  him 
his  protests  were  unheeded. 

"  Domine!  exaudisti  supplicationem  meam!"  mur 
mured  the  ecclesiastic,  "I  have  waited  twenty  years, 
and  in  my  heart  I  have  questioned  Thy  wisdom.  Yet, 
fool  that  I  was,  I  forgot  that  a  thousand  years  in  Thy 
sight  are  but  as  yesterday  when  it  is  past." 

The  concluding  words  were  in  Spanish,  but  Walter 
had  enough  Latin  to  understand  his  exclamation  in 
that  tongue.  It  bewildered  him,  yet  he  strove  to  clear 
the  mystery  that  enfolded  his  capture. 

"I  pray  you,"  he  said  urgently,  "listen  to  my  recital 
of  events  as  they  took  place  yesterday.  When  the 
truth  is  known  it  shall  be  seen  that  neither  Master 
Sainton  nor  I  have  broken  the  King's  ordinance,  or 
done  wrong  to  Count  Gondomar." 

'  'Tis  not  the  King  of  England,  so-called,  nor  the 
minister  of  His  Most  Catholic  Majesty,  to  whom  you 
shall  render  explanation.  Words  are  useless  with  those 
of  your  spawn,  yet  shall  your  neck  bend  and  your  back 
creak  ere  many  days  have  passed.  Would  that  my 
sacred  duty  did  not  retain  me  in  this  accursed  land! 
Would  that  I  might  sail  in  this  ship  to  my  own  country ! 
Yet  I  do  commend  you,  Senor  Mowbray,  and  that  gross 
Philistine  who  lies  by  your  side,  to  my  brethren  of  the 
Seminary  of  San  Jose  at  Toledo.  They  shall  tend 
you  in  the  manner  that  beseemeth  the  son  of  him  who 
sent  the  miraculous  statue  of  our  patron  to  lie  deep 
beneath  the  waves  which  protect  this  benighted  Eng 
land.  Gloria  in  excelsis!  Spain  is  still  able,  by  the 

[71] 


ft 

Holy  office,  to  revenge   insults    paid    to    her    saints. 
Malefico!    Malefico! " 

Turning  to  the  sentry,  the  Jesuit  uttered  some  order 
which  plainly  had  for  its  purport  the  jealous  safe 
guarding  of  his  prisoners.  Then,  with  a  parting  glance 
of  utmost  rancor,  and  some  Latin  words  which  rang 
like  a  curse,  he  left  them. 

"I*  faith,"  laughed  Roger,  quietly,  "his  holiness 
regards  us  with  slight  favor,  I  fancy.  The  sound  of 
your  name,  Walter,  was  unto  him  as  a  red  rag  to  an 
infuriated  bull." 

"  I  never  set  eyes  on  the  madman  before  yester  eve," 
said  his  astonished  companion. 

"  Gad !  he  swore  at  us  in  Latin,  Spanish  and  English, 
and  'tis  sure  some  of  the  mud  will  stick.  An  auld  wife 
of  my  acquaintance,  who  was  nurse  to  the  Scroopes, 
and  thus  brought  in  touch  with  the  Roman  Church,  so 
to  speak,  did  not  exactly  know  whether  priest  or  parson 
were  best,  so  she  used  to  con  her  prayers  in  Latin  and 
English.  '  The  Lord  only  kens  which  is  right,'  she  used 
to  say.  I  have  always  noticed  myself  that  the  saints  in 
heaven  cry  '  Halleluiah,'  which  is  Hebrew,  but,  as  I'm 
a  sinful  man,  I  cannot  guess  how  it  may  be  with 
maledictions." 

The  Spanish  soldier  growled  some  order,  which 
Walter  understood  to  mean  that  they  must  not  talk. 
Be  murmured  the  instruction  to  Roger. 

"They  mun  gag  me  first,"  cried  Sainton.  "Say  but 
vthe  word,  Walter,  and  I'll  draw  these  staples  as  the 
apothecary  pulls  out  an  offending  tooth." 

[72] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Here  the  sentry  presented  the  point  of  his  sword. 
His  intent  to  use  the  weapon  was  so  unmistakable  that 
Roger  thought  better  of  his  resolve,  and  curled  up 
sulkily  to  seek  such  rest  as  was  possible. 

Hidden  away  in  the  ship's  interior  they  knew  nothing- 
of  what  was  passing  without.  Some  food  was  brought 
to  them,  and  a  sailor  carried  to  the  cabin  their  own 
blankets  and  clothes  on  which  they  were  able  to  stretch 
their  limbs  with  a  certain  degree  of  comfort. 

They  noticed  that  their  guard  was  doubled  soon  after 
the  Jesuit  quitted  them.  One  of  the  men  was  changed 
each  hour,  and  this  additional  measure  of  precaution! 
showed  the  determination  of  their  captors  to  prevent 
the  least  chance  of  their  escape,  if  escape  could  be 
dreamed  of,  from  a  vessel  moored  in  the  midst  of  a 
wide  river,  by  men  whose  limbs  were  loaded  with 
heavy  fetters. 

With  the  sangfroid  of  their  race  they  yielded  to 
slumber.  They  knew  not  how  the  hours  sped,  but 
they  were  very  much  surprised  when  an  officer  of  some 
rank,  a  man  whom  they  had  not  seen ,  previously, 
appeared  in  their  little  cabin  and  gave  an  order  which 
resulted  in  their  iron  anklets  being  unlocked.  He 
motioned  to  them  to  follow  him.  They  obeyed, 
mounted  a  steep  ladder,  and  found  themselves  on 
deck. 

The  first  breath  of  fresh  air  made  them  gasp.     They 

had  not  realized  how  foul  was  the  atmosphere  of  their 

prison,  poisoned  as  it  was  by  the  fumes  of  the  lamp, 

but  the  relief  of  the  change  was  turned  into  momentary 

[73] 


The  Great  Mogul 

stupefaction  when  they  saw  that  the  banks  of  the 
Thames  had  vanished,  while  two  distant  blue  strips 
on  the  horizon,  north  and  south,  marked  the  far-off 
shores  of  Essex  and  Kent. 

With  all  sails  spread  to  catch  a  stiff  breeze  the  ship 
was  well  on  her  way  to  sea.  The  prisoners  had  scarce 
reached  the  deck  before  a  change  of  course  to  the 
southward  showed  that  the  vessel  was  already  able  to 
weather  the  isle  of  Thanet  and  the  treacherous  Goodwin 
Sands.  Roger's  amazement  found  vent  in  an  impreca 
tion,  but  Walter,  whose  lips  were  tremulous  with  a 
weakness  which  few  can  blame,  turned  furiously  to  the 
officer  who  had  released  them  from  their  cell. 

"  Can  it  be  true  ? "  he  cried,  "  that  we  have  been 
deported  from  our  country  without  trial  ?  What  would 
you  think,  Senor,  if  your  King  permitted  two  Spanish 
gentlemen  to  be  torn  from  their  friends  and  sent  to  a 
foreign  land  to  be  punished  for  some  fancied  insult 
offered  to  the  English  envoy  ? " 

The  outburst  was  useless.  The  Spaniard  knew  not 
what  he  said,  but  Mowbray's  passionate  gestures  told 
their  own  story,  and  the  courtly  Don  shrugged  his 
shoulders  sympathetically.  He  summoned  a  sailor, 
whom  he  despatched  for  some  one.  A  monk  appeared, 
a  middle-aged  man  of  kindly  appearance.  He  was 
heavily  bearded,  and  his  slight  frame  was  clothed  in 
the  brown  habit,  with  cords  and  sandals,  of  the  Fran 
ciscan  order. 

The  officer,  who  was  really  the  ship's  captain,  made 
some  statement  to  the  monk,  whom  he  addressed  as 

[74] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Fra  Pietro,  and  the  latter,  in  very  tolerable  English, 
explained  that  the  most  excellent  Senor,  Don  Caravel- 
lada,  was  only  obeying  orders  in  carrying  them  to  the 
Spanish  port  of  Cadiz.  Arrived  there,  he  would  hand 
them  over  to  certain  authorities,  as  instructed,  but 
meanwhile,  if  they  gave  him  no  trouble  and  comported 
themselves  like  English  gentlemen,  which  he  assumed 
them  to  be,  he  would  treat  them  in  like  fashion. 

"  To  what  authorities  are  we  to  be  entrusted  ? " 
demanded  Mowbray,  who  had  mastered  the  first  chok 
ing  throb  of  emotion,  and  was  now  resolved  not  to 
indulge  in  useless  protests. 

A  look  of  pain  shot  for  an  instant  across  Era  Pietro's 
eyes.  But  he  answered  quietly :  — 

''Don  Caravellada  has  not  told  me." 

"Belike,  then,  friend,  he  only  needs  the  asking,"  put 
in  Roger. 

The  monk  shook  his  head,  and  was  obviously  so 
distressed  that  Roger  went  on :  — 

"  Nay,  if  it  be  a  secret,  let  it  remain  so,  in  heaven's 
name.  Mayhap  I  may  request  your  barefooted  rev 
erence's  good  offices  in  another  shape.  At  what 
hour  is  breakfast  served  on  board  this  hospitable 
vessel  ?  " 

Fra  Pietro  answered  readily  enough :  — 

"It  awaits  your  pleasure.  The  Senor  Capitan  bids 
me  offer  you,  in  his  name,  the  best  resources  of  the 
ship." 

"Egad,  let  us  eat  first,  after  which  all  he  has  to  do 
to  get  rid  of  us  is  to  place  Master  Mowbray  and  me 

[75] 


in  a  small  boat  with  oars.  'Twill  save  us  much  bother 
and  the  ship  much  provender,  for  I  am  sharp  set  as  a 
keen  saw." 

Without  reply,  the  monk  led  them  to  a  cabin  where 
plenty  of  cold  meats,  bread,  wine,  and  beer  graced  the 
table. 

He  sat  down  with  them,  crossed  himself,  and  ate 
sparingly  of  some  dry  crust,  whilst  Walter  and  Sainton 
tackled  a  prime  joint. 

Roger,  pausing  to  take  a  drink,  eyed  askance  the 
meager  provender  which  sufficed  for  Fra  Pietro;  he 
made  bold  to  ask  him  why  he  fared  so  poorly. 

"It  is  fast  day,  and,  unfortunately,  I  forgot  to  iell 
the  cook  to  boil  me  some  salted  fish." 

"Are  there  many  such  days  in  your  calendar?" 
quoth  Roger. 

"Yes,  at  certain  periods  of  the  year." 

"  Gad,  if  that  be  so,  you  ought  to  follow  the  practice 
of  a  jolly  old  priest  I  have  heard  of,  who,  having  pork 
but  no  fish  on  a  Friday,  baptized  it  in  a  water-butt 
saying,  'Down  pig;  up  pike!'  Then  he  feasted  right 
royally  and  without  injury  to  his  conscience." 

The  monk  smiled.  He  was  wise  enough  to  see  that 
the  hearty  giant  intended  no  offense. 

"I  do  not  need  such  sustenance  as  your  bulk  de 
mands,"  he  said.  "  I  heard  the  men  speaking  of  your 
proportions,  but,  until  I  saw  you  with  my  own  eyes  I 
could  scarce  credit  that  such  a  man  lived." 

"  I  take  it  you  are  not  in  league  with  our  captors  ?  " 
put  in  Walter,  anxious  to  gain  some  notion  as  to  the 

[76] 


The  Great  Mogul 

extraordinary  circumstances  which  led  up  to  his  present 
position. 

"I  am  but  a  poor  Franciscan,  availing  myself  of  a 
passage  to  Lisbon." 

"  Do  you  know  the  Jesuit  who  visited  us  last  night  ?  " 

"I  did  not  see  him." 

"Perchance  you  may  have  heard  of  him.  He  ap 
peared  to  hold  a  high  place  in  the  household  of  Gon- 
domar,  the  Spanish  Ambassador." 

Fra  Pietro  dropped  his  eyes  and  murmured :  — 

"I  think  he  is  Dom  Geronimo,  Grand  Inquisitor  of 
the  Holy  Office." 

Mowbray  pushed  away  his  plate. 

"Dom  Geronimo!"  he  cried.  "Your  priestly  titles 
are  unfamiliar.  Is  he,  by  any  chance,  one  who  was 
known  in  former  years  as  Fra  Geronimo,  a  Jesuit  from 
Toledo?" 

"  The  same,  I  should  believe.  He  is  now  a  dignitary 
of  much  consequence." 

"He  is  a  foul  murderer!  He  slew  my  father  by  a 
coward's  blow,  during  the  great  sea-fight  off  Dover. 
Oh,  to  think  of  it!  Not  yet  two  days  since  he  stood 
in  front  of  my  sword." 

"  I  was  minded  to  tap  the  bald  spot  on  his  skull  with 
my  staff  and  you  restrained  me,"  growled  Roger. 

Mowbray 's  bitter  exclamation  seemed  to  horrify  Fra 
Pietro.  He  placed  his  hands  over  his  ears. 

"Madre  de  Dios!"  he  murmured,  "speak  not  thus 
of  the  head  of  the  Holy  Office.  Did  anyone  else  hear 
you  your  fate  were  sealed,  and  the  Lord  knoweth  your 
[77] 


The  Great  Mogul 

case  is  bad  enough  without  adding  further  condemna 
tion." 

Sensible  that  the  Franciscan  could  hardly  be  expected 
to  agree  with  the  denunciation  of  his  religious  superior, 
Mowbray  restrained  the  tumultuous  thoughts  that 
coursed  wildly  through  his  brain.  He  bowed  his  head 
between  his  hands  and  abandoned  himself  to  sorrowful 
reflection.  A  good  deal  that  was  hidden  before  now 
became  clear. 

It  was  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  Sir  Thomas  Roe 
should  be  puzzled  by  the  animosity  displayed  by  an 
unknown  clique  in  Whitehall  against  two  strange 
youths  who  happened  to  participate,  as  upholders  of 
the  law,  in  a  not  very  serious  brawl.  The  expression 
of  the  Jesuit's  face  when  he  heard  Mowbray's  name, 
the  determined  measures  adopted  by  Gondomar  to 
capture  those  who  had  defeated  the  cleverly  planned 
abduction  of  the  two  girls,  the  remorseless  hatred  of 
Dom  Geronimo's  words  when  he  visited  the  captives 
overnight,  all  pointed  to  one  conclusion.  The  Jesuit 
was,  indeed,  the  fanatic  who  killed  Sir  Robert  Mowbray 
on  board  the  San  Jose,  and  he  was  ready,  after  twenty 
years,  to  pursue  the  son  with  a  spleen  as  malevolent  as 
that  which  inspired  the  assassin's  blow  that  struck 
down  the  father. 

How  crafty  and  subtle  had  been  the  means  adopted 
to  crush  Roger  and  himself!  Were  fair  inquiry  held, 
no  charge  could  have  lain  against  them.  So  an  un 
worthy  monarch,  already  a  dupe  in  the  game  of  king 
craft  played  by  Spain,  had  weakly  consented  to  allow 

[78] 


The  Great  Mogul 

the  royal  warrant  to  become  an  active  instrument  in  the 
hands  of  an  implacable  bigot.  Swift  and  sure  was  Dom 
Geronimo's  vengeance.  They  had  the  misfortune  to 
cross  his  path  without  the  knowledge  even  of  his  iden 
tity,  and  now  they  were  being  ferried  to  Spain  for  some 
dread  purpose  the  mere  suspicion  of  which  chilled  the 
blood  in  Mowbray's  veins. 

And  Nellie  Roe!  She,  with  her  beautiful  and  im 
perious  cousin,  was  left  in  the  city  which  harbored  a 
hostile  influence  so  venomous,  so  pitiless,  and  yet  so 
powerful.  The  suspicion  that  she,  too,  if  only  because 
a  Mowbray  was  her  rescuer,  might  fall  under  the  ban 
of  the  Jesuit,  wrung  a  cry  of  anguish  from  his  lips. 
Hardly  knowing  what  he  did,  and  not  trusting  himself 
to  speak,  he  rushed  on  deck  with  the  mad  notion  of 
throwing  himself  overboard  in  a  vain  attempt  to  swim 
ashore.  As  he  emerged  from  the  companionway  a 
whiff  of  spray  struck  him  in  the  face.  The  slight  shock 
restored  his  senses.  A  heavy  sea  was  running,  and 
the  coast  was  six  miles  distant.  To  spring  over  the 
bulwarks  meant  suicide.  Moreover,  could  he  desert 
Roger?  It  was  not  to  be  thought  of.  Though  death 
might  be  a  relief,  he  must  stick  to  his  loyal  friend,  no 
matter  what  the  ills  in  store. 

Meanwhile,  Roger,  in  his  homely  way,  was  telling 
Fra  Pietro  the  story  of  their  adventures.  The  monk, 
who  seemed  to  be  of  a  very  kind  and  benignant  dispo 
sition,  said  little.  But  he  listened  attentively.  Later, 
when  Mowbray  had  steeled  his  heart  to  endurance,  Fra 
Pietro  spoke  gently  to  him,  and,  when  the  pair  were 

[79] 


The  Great  Mogul 

stricken  with  sea-sickness,  he  tended  them  like  a  skilled 
nurse. 

And  so  the  days  passed  until,  with  a  favoring  gale, 
they  neared  the  Portuguese  coast,  and  the  Sparta, 
for  thus  was  the  ship  named,  bore  up  for  Cape  Finisterre 
and  thence  ran  steadily,  under  the  lee  of  the  land,  down 
to  the  harbor  of  Lisbon.  Fra  Pietro,  with  whom  they 
had  contracted  a  very  real  friendship,  although  his 
beliefs  and  opinions  ran  counter  to  theirs  on  almost 
every  topic  they  discussed,  was  greatly  concerned  when 
the  captain's  edict  went  forth  that  during  the  vessel's 
stay  in  port  the  two  prisoners  must  be  chained  in  their 
cabin. 

Yet  he  sought  and  obtained  permission  to  visit  them, 
and  twice  he  brought  them  a  goodly  supply  of  fresh 
fruit  and  a  flagon  of  the  famed  wine  of  Oporto.  The 
Sparta  was  not  tied  to  a  wharf.  She  dropped  anchor 
well  out  in  the  harbor,  and  communication  with  the 
shore  could  only  be  made  by  means  of  a  boat. 

Fra  Pietro  came  to  see  his  English  friends  for  the 
last  time.  There  were  always  two  sentries  on  duty  at 
the  cabin  door  now,  so  it  was  evident  that  Sen  or 
Caravellada  meant  to  discharge  his  trust  with  scrupu 
lous  fidelity. 

It  is  natural  that  the  worthy  monk,  knowing  full  well 
the  dreadful  fate  that  awaited  the  two  youths  at  the 
end  of  the  voyage,  should  be  much  downcast  during 
this  farewell  interview. 

Yet  there  was  a  hesitancy  in  his  manner  that  did  not 
escape  Walter's  eyes.  He  produced  his  basket  of 

[80] 


The  Great  Mogul 

grapes  and  peaches  and  rich  pomegranates,  while,  this 
time,  he  carried  three  wicker-covered  flasks  of  wine. 

Then  he  began  to  laugh  nervously. 

"  In  one  of  these  flagons,  that  with  the  broken  seal," 
he  said,  "the  wine  is  extraordinarily  potent.  It  has 
the  quality  of  sending  a  man  into  a  sound  sleep  if  he 
imbibe  even  a  small  measure,  yet  it  tastes  like  other 
wine." 

"Ah,"  exclaimed  Roger,  who  had  caught  a  hint  from 
the  close  attention  paid  by  Mowbray  to  the  monk's 
words,  "  that  should  be  a  fine  liquor  if  a  man  wanted  to 
sleep  but  could  not." 

Fra  Pietro  held  out  a  luscious  bunch  of  grapes. 

"  Within  a  bowshot  from  this  ship,"  he  said,  affecting 
a  gaiety  that  should  hide  the  serious  nature  of  his 
words,  "  there  is  a  Portuguese  vessel,  the  Sancta  Trini 
dad.  She  sails  for  the  East  Indies  before  dawn.  The 
captain,  an  honorable  man,  would  give  safe  asylum  to 
those  who  were  distressed,  could  they  but  reach  his 
ship,  and  in  this  cluster  of  grapes  is  a  file.  My  friends, 
may  God  prosper  you!  Though  you  are  not  of  my 
faith  I  cannot  but  wish  you  well.  I  have  striven  hard 
ashore  to  help  you.  I  have  pleaded  with  those  in" 
power,  but  my  words  have  fallen  on  deaf  ears.  Now 
you  know  the  extent  of  my  poor  resources.  Dominus 
vobiscum!  In  manus  tuas,  Domine,  commendo  juven- 
fc»." 

Tears  sprang  into  his  eyes,  he  lifted  his  hands  to 
heaven  as  he  called  down  a  blessing  on  them,  and  the 
two  bowed  their  heads  before  this  good  and  true  man, 

[81] 


The  Great  Mogul 

in  whom  the  spirit  of  Christian  charity  triumphed  over 
narrow  conceptions  of  dogma. 

His  prayers  seemed  to  abide  with  them.  When  night 
fell  the  men  whose  duty  it  was  to  maintain  the  watch 
indulged  in  a  carouse,  as  those  who  had  been  ashore 
not  only  returned  full  of  liquor  but  carried  with  them 
a  liberal  supply  of  wine  for  their  less  fortunate  com 
rades. 

Hence,  though  Roger  drugged  two  of  the  guard  into 
torpor,  no  suspicion  was  aroused  when  the  relief  came, 
but  the  sergeant,  growling  at  the  drunkards,  determined 
to  take  a  turn  himself  on  duty.  Now  this  circumstance, 
at  first  forbidding,  turned  out  to  be  providential. 
Walter  had  plied  the  file  industriously  on  his  shackles, 
but  it  was  quite  certain  that  several  hours  of  severe 
labor  would  be  needed  before  he  could  cut  through  his 
own  and  Roger's  anklets.  Sainton,  with  his  great 
strength,  might  have  pulled  the  staples  from  the  floor, 
but  this  would  be  of  little  avail  if  they  were  compelled 
to  swim  to  the  ship  described  by  Fra  Pietro.  More 
over,  their  freedom  of  movement  would  be  so  hampered 
that  they  might  hardly  hope  to  quit  the  vessel  unper- 
ceived,  even  if  a  boat  were  moored  to  the  stern. 

As  a  last  resource  they  determined  to  adopt  this 
expedient,  but  the  presence  of  the  sergeant,  in  whose 
pouch  rested  the  key  of  their  leg  irons,  gave  a  new 
direction  to  their  thoughts. 

In  the  most  friendly  way,  Roger  plied  him  with  the 
doctored  wine.  Feeling  himself  becoming  drowsy  the 
man  would  have  staggered  out.  At  this,  the  very  crisis 

[82] 


In  a  minute  or  less  they  were  free. 


The  Great  Mogul 

of  a  desperate  situation,  Sainton  gave  a  mighty  tug  at 
his  chain.  The  restraining  staple  came  away,  tearing 
with  it  half  a  plank. 

Startled  almost  into  full  consciousness  the  sergeant 
sprang  towards  him,  with  sword  half  drawn.  So  there 
was  no  help  for  it  but  to  assist  the  action  of  the  wine. 
Roger  grabbed  him  by  the  neck  and  held  him,  wrig 
gling,  until,  to  say  the  least,  he  was  willing  to  lie  very 
still. 

In  a  minute,  or  less,  they  were  free.  They  knew  that 
the  hour  was  long  past  midnight.  The  dawn  would 
soon  be  upon  them  and  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost. 

Walter  seized  the  sergeant's  sword  and  Roger  took 
the  sentry's  halberd.  They  would  fight  for  their  lives 
now,  even  if  they  were  compelled  to  face  the  whole 
ship's  company.  But  fortune  still  favored  them.  The 
watch  on  deck  were  mustered  forward,  and  the  clinking 
of  a  can,  together  with  the  manner  of  such  speech  as 
they  overheard,  told  them  that  conviviality  was  well 
established  there.  So  they  crept  to  the  after  part, 
Roger  going  almost  on  all  fours  to  hide  his  stature. 
Sure  enough,  a  boat  was  moored  there.  They  climbed 
down  into  her,  cast  off,  and  a  strong  tide  quickly  carried 
them  away  from  the  Sparta. 

They  looked  about  for  the  Sancta  Trinidad,  and 
guessed  aright  that  a  fine  brig,  moored  about  a  cable's 
length  distant  from  the  Sparta,  must  be  the  vessel 
spoken  of  by  Fra  Pietro. 

Rowing  quietly  towards  her  they  hailed  her  by  name 
and  were  answered.  They  were  hoisted  aboard,  and 

[83] 


The  Great  Mogul 

a  stoutly  built,  black-bearded  man,  who  came  at  the  cry 
of  the  watch,  met  them  cordially :  — 

"  Ah ! "  he  cried,  "  Eenglish !  One  dam  big  fella !  I 
haf  wait  you  dis  hour  an'  fear  you  no  come." 

Instantly,  though  it  meant  the  loss  of  a  good  anchor 
and  length  of  rope,  the  cable  was  slipped,  a  sail  or  two 
shaken  out,  and  yards  were  squared.  The  ship  got 
some  way  on  her  and  began  to  move.  In  the  ghostly 
light  the  Sparta  looked  like  a  great  bird  asleep  on  the 
dim  waste  of  waters.  Soon  her  outlines  faded  and  were 
lost  in  the  gloom.  As  the  sails  filled  and  more  canvas 
was  spread  the  Sancta  Trinidad  showed  her  mettle  and 
spurned  the  lively  waves  from  her  well  tapered  bows. 
The  hills  merged  into  the  low-lying  clouds,  the  lights 
ashore  became  smaller  and  smaller  until  they  vanished 
altogether,  the  ship  was  well  out  to  sea,  and  the  two 
youths  were  saved,  they  hoped,  from  the  devildoms  of 
Spain. 

They  went  to  seek  the  captain,  who  greeted  them 
again  in  the  most  friendly  manner. 

"No  tank  me,"  he  said,  smiling  until  his  teeth 
gleamed.  "You  tank  Fra  Pietro.  Him  good  man. 
Him  come  my  house  an'  nurse  my  son  when  him  sick 
wid  plague.  For  Diosl  I  do  anytink  for  Fra  Pietro ! " 


[84] 


CHAPTER  VI 

"For   her   own   person, 
It    beggared    all    description." 

Shakespeare,  "Antony  and  Cleopatra." 

THE  road  from  Delhi,  as  it  neared  Agra,  wound 
through  a  suburb  of  walled  gardens.  Between  occa 
sional  gaps  in  the  crumbling  masonry,  or  when  the 
lofty  gates  happened  to  be  left  open,  the  passer-by 
caught  glimpses  of  green  lawns  bordered  with  flowers 
and  shaded  by  leafy  mango-trees.  Diving  into  a  ravine 
scarred  with  dry  water-courses,  the  road  passed  a 
Hindu  shrine  and  a  Mahomedan  tomb.  On  the  oppos 
ing  crest  it  cut  a  cluster  of  hovels  in  twain;  thence  it 
ran  by  the  side  of  a  long,  low  caravansary,  and  finally 
vanished,  like  a  stream  suddenly  emboweled  in  the 
earth,  within  the  dark  portals  of  the  Delhi  Gate  of  the 
chief  Mogul  city. 

Two  Europeans,  mounted  on  sturdy  cobs  of  the  famed 
Waziri  breed,  drew  rein  at  the  entrance  to  the  caravan 
sary.  One  of  them  held  up  an  authoritative  hand  to 
the  sumpter  train  which  followed. 

"  Here  we  reach  the  end  of  a  long  journey,  Roger," 

said  he.     "  Agra  lies  within  the  gate,  the  Palace  stands 

beyond  the  bazaar,  and  this  is  the  rest-house  spoken  of 

by  Rasul,  our  native  friend  at  Delhi.     The  hour  is  yet 

[85] 


The  Great  Mogul 

early  to  seek  an  audience  of  the  Emperor.  Let  us 
refresh  ourselves  here,  make  some  needed  change  in  our 
garments,  and  then  hire  a  guide  to  lead  us  to  the  house 
of  Itimad-ud-Daula,  for  they  say  that  he  alone  pos- 
sesseth  Akbar's  ear." 

"That  is  another  way  of  saying  that  he  shall  first 
possess  himself  of  a  moiety  of  our  goods.  Well,  be  it 
so.  'Tis  a  strange  land  at  the  best.  Let  us  cram  his 
maw,  and  mayhap  he  will  tell  us  a  more  homely  manner 
of  addressing  him.  It  passeth  my  understanding  how 
thou  dost  mouth  this  lingo,  Walter.  Ecod,  I  can  carry 
it  off  bravely  with  a  Mahomed  or  a  Ram  Charan,  but 
when  it  comes  to  Iti  —  what  d'ye  call  him  ?  —  my  jaws 
clag  and  my  tongue  falters  in  the  path  like  a  blind 
man's  staff." 

So  saying,  Roger  Sainton  swung  himself  off  his  steed, 
and  straightway  the  gapers  gathered,  for  his  height  was 
not  so  apparent  on  horseback  as  when  he  stood  square 
on  his  feet.  * 

But  the  servants  tending  the  pack-animals  were 
accustomed  to  this  exhibition  of  popular  interest.  They 
warned  off  the  rabble  with  the  insolence  every  jack-in- 
office  displays  towards  his  inferiors. 

"Away,  illegitimate  ones!  Have  ye  not  work?" 
cried  one. 

"  Bapre !  If  ye  stand  not  aside  ye  shall  eat  the  end 
of  my  stick,"  shouted  another. 

"Bring  fire  and  singe  their  beards,"  growled  a 
Mahomedan  driver. 

"  Kick,  brother,  kick ! "  suggested  a  humorist,  tickling 
[86] 


The  Great  Mogul 

a  mule,  whereupon  the  long-eared  one  ducked  his  head 
and  lifted  his  heels  in  approved  style,  readily  clearing 
a  space,  amidst  the  laughter  and  jeers  of  the  onlookers. 

By  this  time,  Mowbray  and  Sainton  had  entered  the 
caravansary.  It  was  a  substantial  looking  building  ex 
ternally,  but  its  four  walls  merely  supported  an  interior 
veranda,  split  into  sections,  where  merchants  could 
sleep  if  they  chose,  or  cook  their  food  and  rest  during 
the  midday  hours.  In  the  open  square,  which  occupied 
nearly  all  the  inner  space,  was  herded  a  motley  collec 
tion  of  elephants,  camels,  bullocks,  horses,  and  asses,  — 
while  every  conceivable  sort  of  package  of  merchandise 
was  guarded  by  attendants  of  many  Indian  races.  At 
first,  it  seemed  that  there  was  no  more  room  for  man  or 
beast,  but  the  requisite  amount  of  shouting,  and  a 
lavish  use  of  opprobrious  epithets,  couched  in  various 
languages,  secured  a  corner  of  the  square  for  the  friends' 
cavalcade  and  a  clear  space  of  the  veranda  for  their 
own  convenience. 

Three  years  of  life  in  the  East,  not  to  mention  the 
new  experience  of  a  march  of  over  a  thousand  miles  up 
country,  had  accustomed  them  to  such  surroundings. 

Whilst  they  were  washing  and  dressing  their  servants 
prepared  an  excellent  meal  of  kid  and  rice,  which  they 
tackled  with  a  gusto  that  showed  appetites  in  no  wise 
impaired  by  residence  in  Hindustan. 

They  had  ridden  ten  miles  that  morning,  and  it  is 
hard  to  conceive  a  more  exhilarating  or  healthful  exercise 
than  a  march  across  the  great  central  plain  of  India 
during  the  early  hours  of  a  fine  day  in  the  cold  weather. 

[87] 


The  date  was  the  first  day  of  November,  1611,  and,  if 
the  two  Yorkshire  adventurers  had  changed  somewhat 
since  they  sailed  away  from  Lisbon  on  board  the  Sancta 
Trinidad,  the  change  was  for  the  better.  Walter  Mov/- 
bray  had  become  more  manly,  more  authoritative,  less 
prone  to  flash  his  sword  at  the  first  sign  of  a  quarrel, 
whilst  Roger,  if  he  had  increased  neither  in  height  nor 
girth,  had  gained  a  certain  air  of  distinction  that  was 
not  due  wholly  to  his  gigantic  proportions. 

Their  intervening  history  may  be  told  briefly.  The 
Sancta  Trinidad,  touching  at  the  Canaries,  might  have 
passed  them  on  to  an  English  ship,  bound  for  Plymouth, 
which  lay  there  waiting  for  the  wind  to  change.  But 
worthy  Captain  Garcia  had  taken  a  great  fancy  to  the 
pair  of  them.  He  vowed  that  such  fortunes  were  to  be 
won  speedily  in  the  land  of  the  Great  Mogul  that  they 
agreed  to  sail  thither  with  him.  They  called  at  Table 
Bay,  were  nearly  lost  in  doubling  the  dreaded  Cape  of 
Good  Hope,  were  assailed  by  pirates  off  Madagascar, 
when  Roger  proved  that  a  capstan-bar,  properly 
wielded,  is  worth  a  dozen  swords,  and  finally  brought 
to  in  the  harbor  of  Swally  Road,  at  some  little  distance 
from  Surat  on  the  Tapti  River.  Here,  the  worthy 
Garcia  realized  what  his  friendship  had  forgotten. 
Englishmen  were  in  small  favor  with  his  grasping 
fellow-countrymen,  and  the  two  encountered  many 
reverses,  until  they  fell  in  with  an  English  factor,  named 
Edwards,  from  Ahmedabad,  who  asked  them  to  join 
him  in  business. 

Though  they  were  wanting  in  experience  of  the  ways 
[88] 


The  Great  Mogul 

of  Indian  merchants,  Edwards  undertook  to  teach 
them,  for  he  was  greatly  in  need  of  those  whom  he 
could  trust  implicitly.  They  learnt  the  Urdu  language, 
Walter  thoroughly,  and  Roger  with  less  success;  they 
made  the  acquaintance  of  Prince  Jahangir,  acting  as 
Viceroy  for  his  father,  Akbar,  in  the  west  country,  and, 
ultimately,  they  and  their  partner  put  all  their  store  to 
the  hazard  in  an  ambitious  expedition  to  the  far-off 
capital. 

It  was  their  intent  to  meet  the  renowned  Akbar  at 
Delhi  on  his  way  south  from  a  summer  spent  in  Kash 
mir.  News  of  a  rising  in  the  Dekkan,  however,  had 
hurried  the  monarch's  movements.  They  missed  him 
at  the  ancient  capital  of  India,  so,  having  learnt,  among 
other  things,  the  eastern  habit  of  patience,  they  marched 
by  easy  stages  to  Agra. 

And  now,  refreshed  and  properly  clothed  in  garments 
befitting  their  position,  they  mounted  fresh  horses 
which  had  been  led  during  the  march.  Preceded  by 
a  chuprassi,  or  attendant,  they  advanced  towards  the 
gate. 

"  Make  way  there ! "  shouted  the  man,  "  stand  aside, 
you  basket-carriers!  Hi,  you  with  the  camel,  pass  on 
the  left!  Oh,  you  pig  of  a  bullock-driver,  do  you  not 
see  the  sahibs  ?  " 

Thus,  their  advent  heralded  by  much  unnecessary 
bawling,  they  rode  through  the  center  one  of  the  three 
pointed  arches  of  the  gate. 

Beyond  lay  the  principal  street  of  the  narrow  bazaar 
in  which  the  Agra  merchants  conducted  their  brisk 

[89] 


The  Great  Mogul 

trade.  And  what  a  brilliant  spectacle  it  offered  in  the 
glorious  sunshine!  Lofty  houses,  gay  in  tawdry  colors 
and  picturesque  in  their  dishevelment,  looked  down  on 
a  crowd  as  varied  as  any  on  earth.  Caste  and  color  of 
every  sort  jostled  in  the  roadway.  Women,  erect  and 
elegant,  carrying  earthen  jars  on  their  heads,  returning 
from  riverside  or  well,  moved  with  graceful  carriage. 
Merchants,  coolies,  sweetmeat  sellers,  and  milk-venders 
rubbed  shoulders  with  swaggering  Rajputs  and  stately 
Mahomedans.  A  Hindu  pilgrim,  laden  with  sacred 
water  from  the  distant  Ganges,  paused  for  a  moment 
to  buy  a  handful  of  millet.  A  white-turbaned  Sikh, 
attracted  by  the  striped  and  golden  fruit  of  a  melon- 
seller,  tendered  a  small  coin  for  a  rosy  slice  and  stalked 
on,  eating  gravely  and  with  dignity.  Crawling  snake- 
like  in  the  dust,  a  devotee  wound  his  way  to  far-off 
Ajodhia,  where  Holy  Ganga,  if  ever  he  reached  its 
banks,  should  lave  his  sins.  Near  him  stood  a  snow- 
white  leper,  thrusting  fingerless  stumps  into  the  faces 
of  the  passers-by,  and  gaining,  by  his  raucous  cries  and 
revolting  appearance,  a  few  cowries,  or  coin  shells, 
from  the  few  who  did  not  remain  utterly  indifferent  to 
his  appeals.  An  olive-skinned  Brahmin,  slender  and 
upright,  bearing  on  his  forehead  the  marks  of  his  proud 
descent,  and  carrying  a  brass  vessel  wherewith  to  draw 
the  water  for  his  morning  ablution,  pulled  his  red 
cotton  wrapper  more  closely  around  him  as  he  passed 
the  leper.  A  young  Pathan,  fair-complexioned,  eagle- 
nosed,  hawk-eyed,  stalwart  and  stately  as  is  the  birth 
right  of  his  mountain  race,  pushed  through  the  crowd 

[90] 


The  Great  Mogul 

with  careless  hauteur.  The  Sikh,  the  Brahmin,  the 
Pathan,  were  the  born  aristocrats  of  the  mob. 

To  add  to  the  seemingly  inextricable  confusion, 
pariah  dogs  prowled  in  the  gutter,  bullock-carts  crept 
along  complainingly,  stealthy  footed  camels  lurched 
through  the  crowd,  palanquins,  borne  on  the  shoulders 
of  chanting  carriers,  passed  swiftly  amidst  the  vortex, 
and  the  two  travelers  encountered  at  least  one  native 
carriage,  painted  green  and  gold,  and  drawn  by  two 
white  Dekkani  bullocks,  conveying  a  party  of  Hindu 
women  to  the  temple  of  Mahadeo,  God  of  Love. 

The  occupants  were  young  and  pretty,  too,  clad  in 
silks  and  laden  with  jewels,  as  could  be  readily  seen  by 
a  peep  through  the  folds  of  the  chudda,  left  carelessly 
open,  and  they  laughed  musically  as  they  caught  sight 
of  the  Englishmen's  eyes  turned  towards  them. 

"  'Tis  clear  enough  that  Akbar  is  a  strong  ruler  and 
a  just  one,"  said  Walter,  his  white  teeth  showing  in  a 
smile  at  the  merry  party  of  girls. 

"  Such  is  his  repute,"  answered  Roger. 

"Repute  may  belie  a  man.  Here  is  ample  proof. 
In  a  Mahomedan  city  I  find  Hindus  in  excess. 
Amidst  a  strangely  assorted  crowd,  pretty  women  drive 
abroad  in  brave  display  of  gold  and  gems.  I  reason 
that  every  man  knows  he  is  protected  by  the  law  and 
a  woman  need  fear  no  insult.  'Tis  not  so  in  another 
great  city  we  wot  of." 

"Ecod,  I  was  just  thinking  of  London.  Not  that  I 
know  much  of  the  place,  but  the  babel  of  the  bazaar 
brought  to  mind  the  Fleet.  Ah,  Walter  Mowbray, 
[91] 


The  Great  Mogul 

'twas  a  queer  gate  we  opened  when  you  drew  on  my 
Lord  Dereham  and  I  heaved  him  over  the  wall." 

"  We  were  heedless  youths  then.  Now  we  are  grave 
merchants  and  must  comport  ourselves  as  such.  I 
fancy  it  would  better  become  our  peaceful  character 
had  we  left  our  swords  at  the  caravansary." 

"  I'  faith,  I  differ  from  you.  Some  chuck  might  have 
a  notion  to  measure  our  bales  by  our  blades,  and  I  like 
ever  to  give  a  man  an  ell  for  a  yard  by  that  reckoning." 

So  saying,  Roger  significantly  tapped  the  handle  of 
the  tremendous  weapon  fashioned  for  him  by  an 
armorer  at  Ahmedabad.  Slung  from  his  right  shoul 
der  by  a  baldric,  the  sword  was  nearly  four  feet  in 
length,  perfectly  straight,  double-edged,  and  strong  in 
the  forte.  Probably  there  was  not  its  like  in  all  India, 
as  the  expert  native  swordsman  finds  delight  in  manipu 
lating  a  curved  scimitar,  with  razor  edge  and  tiny  grip. 
The  Indian  uses  the  sword  to  cut,  the  lance  and  the 
dagger  to  stab. 

Mowbray  shook  his  head. 

"  There  is  so  much  at  stake  on  this  venture,"  said  he, 
"  that  I  hope  we  may  keep  clear  of  quarrels.  Remem 
ber,  I  wrote  to  Nellie  Roe  telling  her,  if  fortune  smiles 
on  us,  we  should  return  to  England  by  the  first  ship 
that  sails  from  Surat  after  we  have  adjusted  accounts 
with  Edwards.  Let  us  sell  our  silks  and  spices  as  best 
we  may  and  haste  back  to  the  coast  with  lighter  and 
speedier  convoy." 

Roger  laughed,  so  loudly  and  cheerily  that  many  an 
eye  was  turned  towards  him. 

[92] 


The  Great  Mogul 

"  By  the  cross  of  Osmotherly ! "  he  cried,  "  that  letter 
hath  made  thee  a  parson.  Yet  I  heard  naught  of  this 
when  Suraj  Mul  barred  the  way  at  Ajmere,  and  you 
and  I  rode  down  his  sowars  as  if  they  were  painted  men 
and  not  bewhiskered  knaves  of  flesh  and  blood,  though 
of  the  black  sort." 

"Mayhap  the  near  end  of  our  journey  hath  made 
me  serious  minded." 

"  Now,  I  think  with  you,  but  I  arrive  at  the  same  end 
by  a  different  road.  Our  swords  have  done  us  good 
service.  Let  them  keep  in  use  and  they  may  earn  us 
hilts  of  gold.  But  how  now  ?  Do  we  leave  the  city  ?" 

Their  guide  had  led  them  to  the  bank  of  the  Jumna, 
where  a  bridge  of  boats  spanned  the  stream.  In  reply 
to  a  question  by  Walter,  the  man  told  them  that  the 
house  of  the  Diwan,  or  Prime  Minister,  lay  on  the 
other  side  of  the  river. 

They  followed  him,  crossed  the  shaking  bridge  which 
made  their  horses  nervous,  and  climbed  the  steep  bank 
opposite.  Away  to  the  right,  on  the  city  side  of  the 
Jumna,  they  could  see  the  high  piled  red  sandstone 
battlements  of  the  palace,  with  some  of  its  white  marble 
buildings  glistening  in  the  sunlight  over  the  top  of  the 
frowning  ramparts.  A  winding  road  led  towards  the 
castle  along  the  left  bank  of  the  river,  and,  in  the  far 
distance,  they  could  distinguish  a  gay  cavalcade  of 
horsemen,  whose  burnished  ornaments  and  arms  shone 
in  the  sun  with  dazzling  gleams. 

"  What  pageant  may  that  be  ? "  asked  Walter  of  the 
guide. 

[93] 


The  Great  Mogul 

"The  King  of  Kings  may  ride  forth  in  state,  sahib, 
or  Prince  Jahangir  may  go  to  the  chase.  I  know  not. 
At  this  season  such  spectacles  are  common  in  Agra." 

'  'Tis  a  brave  show,"  muttered  Roger.  "  This  Agra 
must  be  a  grand  place  to  loot." 

They  lost  sight  of  the  cortege  and  halted  in  front  of 
a  strong  but  exceedingly  beautiful  gateway,  fashioned 
in  a  Saracenesque  arch  of  white  marble,  and  bedecked 
with  scrollwork  wrought  in  precious  stones,  with  a 
text  in  Persi- Arabic  over  the  porch. 

Whilst  the  guide  spoke  to  a  guard,  Walter  deciphered 
the  script :  — 

'* '  May  Allah  prosper  all  who  enter  and  all  who  leave 
this  dwelling!'  A  most  noble  wish,"  he  said,  "and 
one  which  I  reciprocate  to  the  full." 

"These  Mahmouds  have  a  way  of  uttering  a  prayer 
when  they  cut  your  throat,"  growled  Roger.  "They 
never  kill  a  duck  but  they  chant  a  verse  of  their  scripture 
to  mark  the  beheading.  Now,  I'll  warrant  me  this  is 
a  canting  rogue  at  the  best." 

The  gate  was  thrown  open.  Between  its  portals  was 
revealed  a  vista  of  a  most  delightful  garden,  where 
roses  hung  in  festoons  and  all  manner  of  beautiful 
shrubs  gave  shade  to  pleasant  lawns  or  were  reflected 
in  the  placid  depths  of  clear  lakes.  Half  hidden  among 
lofty  trees  they  saw  the  low  towers  of  a  mansion  built 
wholly  of  white  marble,  and  decorated,  like  the  gate, 
with  flower-like  devices  wrought  in  topaz,  and  carne- 
lians,  and  blue,  red,  and  green  gems  that  sparkled  with 
the  fire  of  sapphires,  rubies,  and  emeralds. 

[94] 


The  Great  Mogul 

"  The  inmate  may  have  the  heart  of  a  rogue,  but  he 
has  the  eye  of  an  angel,"  said  Walter.  "Is  this  the 
house  of  Itimad-ud-Daula  ? "  he  went  on,  in  Urdu. 

"It  is,  sahib,"  answered  the  guide. 

"And  how  is  it  called?" 

"  Bagh-i-dilkusha,  sahib." 

"The  Garden  of  Heart's  Delight!"  He  turned  to 
Roger.  "And  well  named,  too.  If  ever  a  place  de 
served  such  title  methinks  we  are  looking  at  it  now." 

"I  vow  he  has  been  dreaming  of  Nellie  Roe  all 
night,"  growled  Roger  to  himself  as  they  dismounted. 
"I  never  knew  him  in  such  mood.  Gad!  he  is  either 
sickening  for  a  fever  or  he  will  write  a  set  of  verses  ere 
sunset." 

They  were  asked  to  wait  in  the  bardmada,  or  porch, 
until  a  messenger  took  particulars  of  their  errand  to  the 
Diwan.  But  fortune  smiled  on  them  that  day  and 
carried  them  far.  The  man  had  scarce  set  out  towards 
the  house  when  the  clatter  of  a  horse,  hard  ridden, 
announced  the  approach  of  some  cavalier  in  hot  haste. 

The  animal  was  reined  in  with  remarkable  celerity 
without,  and  the  rider  entered  the  garden  hurriedly. 
He  checked  his  speed,  however,  when  he  saw  strangers, 
and  not  even  the  well-bred  hauteur  affected  by  the 
Persian  nobles  of  Akbar's  court  enabled  him  wholly  to 
conceal  the  surprise  with  which  he  beheld  Sain  ton. 

Walter  stepped  forward  and  bowed. 

"  We  are  English  merchants,"  he  said,  "  and  we  seek 
an  audience  of  the  illustrious  Itimad-ud-Daula.  These 
servitors  are  dull-witted  and  may  not  explain  our 

[95] 


errand.  Perchance,  if  yen  have  affairs  with  his  Excel 
lency,  you  will  be  good  enough  to  convey  to  him  our 
request." 

The  newcomer,  a  handsome,  noble-looking  man 
of  thirty-five  or  thereabouts,  laughed  with  a  certain 
frankness  that  bespoke  an  open  character. 

"Traders!"  cried  he.  "Had  you  said  soldiers  I 
might  have  better  understood  you.  In  what  commodity 
do  you  deal  ?  Is  it  aught  to  eat  or  drink  ?  If  so,  on  my 
soul,  your  friend  gives  good  warrant  of  its  virtues." 

"Unhappily  our  land  is  too  far  distant  to  permit  us 
to  produce  other  than  a  sample  of  what  our  meat  and 
wine  can  achieve.  But  we  have  ample  stock  of  rare 
silks  and  rich  spices  of  Araby  and  Gondar.  If  the 
ladies  of  this  charming  city  are  as  fair  to  behold  and 
as  richly  adorned  as  all  else  we  have  seen  then  our 
journey  from  Surat  to  the  court  of  Akbar  shall  not  have 
been  made  in  vain." 

Mowbray's  easy  diction  and  the  distinction  of  his 
manner  astounded  the  hearer  quite  as  much  as  did 
Roger's  proportions.  The  Persian,  a  born  gentleman, 
well  knew  he  was  talking  to  his  equal  of  another  clime. 

"  You  and  your  wares  could  not  have  arrived  at  better 
season,"  he  said  gravely;  "but  I  never  yet  met  mer 
chant  so  unlike  a  merchant  as  you  and  your  gigantic 
companion." 

Walter's  quick  intuition  told  him  that  here  was  one 
who  might  be  a  good  friend.  It  was  important  to 
stand  well  with  him  and  leave  room  for  no  dubiety. 
So,  in  a  few  well-chosen  sentences,  he  told  how  it  came 

[96] 


The  Great  Mogul 

about  that  he  and  Roger  brought  a  pack-train  to  Agra. 
The  mere  mention  of  Edwards's  name  cleared  up  the 
mystery  so  far  as  his  hearer  was  concerned. 

"Edwards!"  he  cried,  "a  fat  man,  who  struts  as  he 
walks  and  coughs  loudly  to  command  respect?" 

Mowbray  admitted  that  the  description  fitted  his 
partner  sufficiently  well. 

"  You  know  he  has  been  here  himself  in  years  past  ?  " 
went  on  the  Persian. 

"Yes.  The  knowledge  he  gained  then  led  to  the 
proper  selection  of  our  merchandise." 

"Did  he  not  tell  you  what  befell  him?" 

"Little  of  any  consequence." 

"  He  carried  himself  so  ill  that  he  bred  a  low  repute 
of  your  nation.  He  suffered  blows  from  porters,  and 
was  thrust  out  of  many  places  head  and  shoulders  by 
base  peons  without  seeking  satisfaction.  Yet  he 
showed  some  judgment  in  choosing  you  two  as  his 
agents.  Name  him  to  none.  Strive  to  forget  him 
until  you  rate  him  for  sending  you  hither  without 
warning." 

No  more  unpleasing  revelation  could  have  been 
made.  Walter  was  fully  aware  of  the  difficulties  which 
faced  Europeans  in  India  at  that  date.  The  vain  and 
proud  Orientals  lost  no  opportunity  of  humiliating 
strangers.  A  cool  and  resolute  bearing  was  the  only 
sure  fence  against  the  insults  and  petty  annoyances 
offered  by  minor  officials.  It  was,  therefore,  vexing  to 
the  uttermost  degree  that  Edwards  had  endured  con 
tumely  and  not  even  prepared  them  for  a  hostile  recep- 

[97] 


The  Great  Mogul 

tion.  For  the  moment,  Mowbray  felt  so  disturbed  that 
he  was  minded  to  retire  to  the  caravansary  to  consider 
his  next  step,  when  Sainton,  who  understood  the  latter 
part  of  the  conversation  well  enough,  strode  forward. 

"  Where  be  the  peons  you  spoke  of,  friend  ?  "  said  he. 
"Tis  fine  weather,  and  the  exercise  you  spoke  of,  if 
practised  on  me,  will  give  them  a  zest  for  the  midday 
meal." 

This  time  the  stranger  laughed  as  heartily  as  etiquette 
permitted. 

"No,  no,"  he  cried,  "such  minions  demand  their 
proper  subject.  Now,  do  you  two  come  with  me  and 
I  shall  put  your  business  in  a  fair  way  towards  speedy 
completion." 

Talking  the  while,  and  telling  them  his  name  was 
Sher  Afghan,  he  led  them  through  the  garden  towards 
the  house.  The  deep  obeisances  of  the  doorkeepers 
showed  that  he  was  held  of  great  consequence,  and 
none  questioned  his  right  to  introduce  the  two  English 
men  to  the  sacred  interior.  They  passed  through 
several  apartments  of  exceeding  beauty  and  entered 
another  garden,  in  which,  to  the  bewilderment  of  the 
visitors,  who  knew  what  the  close  seclusion  of  the 
zenana  implied,  they  saw  several  ladies,  veiled  indeed, 
but  so  thinly  that  anyone  close  at  hand  might  discern 
their  features. 

Courteously  asking  them  to  wait  near  the  exit  from 
the  house,  their  Persian  acquaintance  quitted  them  and 
sought  a  distant  group. 

He  salaamed  deeply  before  a  richly  attired  female 
[98] 


The  Great  Mogul 

and  pointed  towards  Mowbray  and  Sainton.  Then  he 
explained  something  to  a  dignified  looking  old  man, 
robed  in  flowing  garments  of  white  muslin,  whose  sharp 
eyes  had  noted  the  advent  of  the  strangers  the  moment 
they  appeared. 

With  this  older  couple  was  a  slim  girl.  When  the 
others  moved  slowly  across  the  grass  towards  the  place 
where  Mowbray  and  Sainton  stood,  Sher  Afghan  hung 
back  somewhat  and  spoke  to  the  girl,  who  kept  stu 
diously  away  from  him,  and  coyly  adjusted  her  veil  so 
that  he  might  not  look  into  her  eyes.  He  seemed  to 
plead  with  her,  but  his  words  fell  on  heedless  ears. 

Indeed,  ere  yet  the  aged  Diwan  had  conducted  Queen 
Mariam  Zamani,  sultana  of  Akbar  and  mother  of 
Jahangir,  heir  to  the  throne,  sufficiently  apart  from 
her  attendants  to  permit  the  strangers  to  be  brought 
before  her  —  the  rank  of  the  august  lady  enabling 
her  to  dispense  with  the  Mahomedan  seclusion  of 
her  sex  —  Sher  Afghan's  gazelle-like  companion  ran 
forward  and  gazed  fearlessly  at  Mowbray,  wonderingly 
at  Sainton. 

"Their  skins  are  not  white  but  red!"  she  cried 
joyously.  "  Nevertheless  one  of  them  must  come  from 
the  land  of  Tokay,  which  is  famed  for  its  white  ele 
phants." 

Hastily  conquering  his  air  of  dejection  the  younger 
nobleman  signed  to  the  Englishmen  to  approach.  They 
obeyed,  without  haste  or  awkwardness.  Grasping 
their  sword  hilts  in  their  left  hands  and  doffing  their 
hats  with  the  elaborate  courtesy  of  the  age,  they  stood 

[99] 


The  Great  Mogul 

bareheaded  before  the  elder  pair,  and  certainly  the 
kingdom  of  James  I.  had  no  cause  to  be  ashamed  of  its 
latest  representatives  in  the  Mogul  capital. 

Roger  Sainton  had  not  his  equal  in  height,  in  thick 
ness  of  bone  or  strength  of  sinew,  in  all  the  wide  empire 
governed  by  the  most  powerful  of  Indian  monarchs, 
while  Walter  Mowbray's  splendid  physique  was  in  no 
wise  dwarfed  by  the  nearness  of  his  gigantic  comrade. 
They  were  good  to  look  upon,  and  so  the  girl  found  them 
notwithstanding  her  jest. 

She  herself  was  beautiful  to  a  degree  not  often  seen 
even  in  a  land  of  classic  features  and  exquisitely 
molded  figures.  Her  deep,  violet  eyes  were  guarded 
by  long  lashes  which  swept  rounded  cheeks  of  ivorj 
tint,  brightened  by  little  spots  of  color  which  reminded 
the  beholder  of  the  gold  and  red  on  the  sunny  side  of  a 
ripe  pomegranate.  Her  lips  were  parted,  and  her  teeth, 
dazzlingly  white,  were  so  regular  and  large  that  they 
appeared  to  constitute  the  chief  attraction  of  a  singu 
larly  mobile  and  expressive  mouth.  Again  she  laughed, 
with  a  musical  cadence  that  was  quaint  and  fasci 
nating  :  — 

"May  it  please  your  Majesty,"  she  said,  addressing 
the  Sultana,  "these  are  not  merchants  but  courtiers." 

"  May  it  please  your  Majesty,"  said  Walter,  instantly, 
"we  would  fain  be  both." 

His  apt  retort  in  high-flown  Persian  was  unexpected. 
His  eyes  encountered  those  of  the  girl,  and  they  ex 
changed    a    glance    of    quick    intelligence.     She    was 
pleased  with  him,  and  he  offered  her  the  silent  homage 
[100] 


The  Great  Mogul 

which  every  young  man  of  proper  spirit  pays  to  a 
beautiful  and  sprightly  woman. 

Her  brilliant  orbs  said :  "  I  will  befriend  you." 

In  the  same  language  he  answered:  "You  are 
peerless  among  your  sex." 

And  such  was  the  manner  of  the  meeting  between 
Walter  Mowbray,  son  of  him  who  fell  on  board  the 
San  Jose,  and  Nur  Mahal,  the  baby  girl  who  was  saved 
from  death  in  the  Khaibar  Pass  twenty  years  earlier. 

It  was  a  meeting  not  devoid  of  present  interest,  and 
of  great  future  import,  yet  it  is  probable  that  if  Nellie 
Roe  had  witnessed  it  she  might  have  been  greatly 
displeased. 


[101] 


CHAPTER  VH 

"She's  beautiful,   and   therefore   to  be   woo'd; 
She's  a  woman,  therefore  to  be  won." 

Shakespeare,  "King  Henry  VI,"  Part  I. 

NUR  MAHAL  was  a  Persian,  not  a  native  of  India. 
In  her  wondrous  face  the  Occident  blended  with  the 
Orient.  Its  contour,  its  creamy  smoothness,  the  high 
forehead  and  delicately  firm  chin  were  of  the  West,  and 
the  East  gave  her  those  neatly  coiled  tresses  of  raven 
hue,  those  deeply  pencilled  eyebrows,  beneath  whose 
curved  arches  flashed,  like  twin  stars,  her  marvelous 
eyes. 

Her  supple  body  was  robed  in  a  sari  of  soft,  deep 
yellow  silk,  bordered  with  a  device  of  fine  needlework 
studded  with  gems.  It  draped  her  closely,  in  flowing 
lines,  from  waist  to  feet,  and  a  fold  was  carried  over  her 
right  shoulder  to  be  held  gracefully  scarfwise  in  one 
hand.  An  exquisite  plum  colored  silk  vest,  encrusted 
with  gold  embroidery,  covered  her  finely  molded  bust, 
revealing  yet  modestly  shielding  each  line  and  flexure 
of  a  form  which  might  have  served  Pygmalion  as  the 
model  of  Galatea. 

On  her  forehead  sparkled  a  splendid  jewel,  an  emer 
ald  surrounded  by  diamonds  set  en  etoile.  Around  her 
swanlike  throat  was  clasped  a  necklace  of  uncut 
[102] 


The  Great  Mogul 

emeralds,  strung,  at  intervals,  between  rows  of  seed 
pearls.  She  wore  no  other  ornament.  Her  tiny  feet 
were  encased  in  white  silk  slippers,  and,  an  unusual 
sight  in  the  East,  their  open  bands  revealed  woven 
stockings  of  the  same  material. 

But  the  daughter  of  the  Persian  refugee  who  had 
risen  to  such  high  place  in  Akbar's  court  was  bound 
neither  by  convention  nor  fashion.  She  fearlessly  un 
veiled  when  she  thought  fit,  and  she  taught  the  ladies 
of  Agra  to  wear  not  only  the  bodice  and  the  inner 
skirt  but  also  a  species  of  corset,  whilst  to  her  genius 
was  due  the  wonderful  perfume  known  as  attar  of 
roses. 

Again,  although  more  than  twenty  years  of  age  at 
that  time,  she  was  unmarried,  an  amazing  thing  in 
itself  when  the  social  customs  of  Hindustan  were  taken 
into  account. 

Suddenly  brought  face  to  face  with  such  a  divinity, 
it  was  no  small  credit  to  Walter  Mowbray  that  he  kept 
his  wits  sufficiently  to  turn  her  laughing  comment  to 
advantage. 

The  Sultana  was  graciously  pleased  to  smile. 

"If  your  wares  comport  with  your  manners,"  she 
said,  "you  will  be  welcome  at  the  palace.  We  hold  a 
bazaar  there  to-morrow,  and  novelties  in  merchandise 
are  always  acceptable  on  such  occasions.  Sher  Af 
ghan,"  she  continued,  "see  that  the  strangers  are 
properly  admitted  to  the  Hall  of  Private  Audience  at 
the  first  hour  appointed  for  those  who  bring  articles  for 
sale." 

[103] 


The  young  nobleman  bowed,  as  did  Mowbray  and 
Sainton,  though  the  latter  knew  but  little  of  the  high- 
flown  Persian  in  which  the  Sultana  spoke. 

Nur  Mahal,  who  appeared  to  be  on  terms  of  greal 
familiarity  with  her  august  visitor,  whispered  something 
to  Queen  Mariana  which  made  the  good  lady  laugh. 
Obviously,  the  comment  had  reference  to  Roger,  and 
that  worthy  blushed,  for  a  woman's  eyes  could  pierce 
his  tough  hide  readily,  there  being  no  weapon  to  equal 
them  known  to  mankind. 

"  She's  a  bonny  lass,  yon,"  he  murmured  to  Walter, 
"and  she  has  uncommonly  high  spirits.  I  never  kent 
afore  why  a  man  should  make  a  fool  of  himself  for  a 
woman,  but  now  that  I  have  seen  one  who  is  half  an 
angel  I  am  beginning  to  have  a  dim  notion  of  the 
madness  which  seizes  some  folk." 

"  There  are  others,  but  why  only  half  an  angel  ? " 
asked  Mowbray  with  a  smile,  for  the  Queen  had  turred 
to  address  the  Diwan. 

"Because  that  is  all  we  have  seen.  The  hidden  half 
is  the  devil  in  her.  Mark  me,  Walter,  there  will  be 
heads  cracked  in  plenty  before  that  fancy  wench  stops 
plaguing  mankind." 

Courtesy  was  urging  Sher  Afghan  to  give  some 
directions  to  the  wanderers  he  had  so  greatly  be 
friended,  but  inclination,  always  a  willing  steed,  dragged 
him  to  the  side  of  Nur  Mahal. 

"I  came  to  ask  what  you  needed  most  for  the  ba 
zaar,"  he  said  anxiously. 

"  Naught  that  you  can  bestow,"  was  the  curt  reply. 
[104] 


The  Great  Mogul 

"Sweet  one,  your  words  chill  my  heart.  'Tis  but  a 
week  since  your  father  —  " 

She  stamped  a  foot  imperiously  and  clenched  her 
hands. 

"I  am  not  one  of  those  to  be  dealt  with  as  others 
choose,"  she  cried,  though  modulating  her  voice  lest  it 
should  reach  the  Queen's  ears.  "Why  do  you  pester 
me?  Your  tall  sheepskin  cap  affrights  me.  Take  it 
and  your  ungainly  presence  to  far-off  Burdwan.  I 
mean  to  abide  in  Agra." 

He  bent  low  before  her. 

"A  blow  from  the  hand  of  my  beloved  is  sweet  as  a 
grape  from  the  hand  of  another,"  he  said,  conscious, 
perhaps,  of  the  manifest  injustice  of  the  attack  on  his 
personal  appearance.  Physically,  he  was  a  worthy 
mate  even  for  such  a  goddess,  and  he  had  already  won 
great  renown  in  India  by  his  prowess  in  the  field  and 
his  skill  in  all  manly  exercises. 

"Gladly  would  I  bestow  on  you  a  whole  bunch  of 
such  grapes,"  she  said,  turning  to  follow  the  Sultana 
and  her  father.  But  a  laughing  shout  from  the  interior 
of  the  house  caused  all  eyes  to  seek  its  explanation. 

"Well  met,  mother!  Have  you  come,  like  me,  to 
wring  another  lakh  out  of  the  Diwan  ?  " 

A  young  man,  tall  and  well  built  and  of  pleasing 
aspect,  notable  for  his  broad  chest  and  long  arms,  and 
attired  in  sumptuous  garments,  entered  the  garden. 
His  words  would  have  revealed  his  identity  to  Walter 
and  Sainton  had  they  not  met  him,  two  years  earlier, 
at  Surat.  This  was  Prince  Jahangir,  the  heir  apparent. 
[105] 


The  Great  Mogul 

His  complexion  was  a  ruddy  nut  brown,  his  eyes,  if 
somewhat  closely  set,  were  strangely  keen  and  piercing, 
and  it  was  a  peculiar  and  noticeable  fact  that  he  wore 
small  gold  earrings,  in  token  of  bondage  to  the  great 
saint  Sheikh  Salem,  to  whose  intercession,  it  was  said, 
he  owed  his  birth. 

Jahangir  did  not  trouble  to  conceal  his  emotions. 
His  joyous  glance,  evoked  more  by  the  sight  of  Nur 
Mahal,  it  is  to  be  feared,  than  by  the  unexpected  pres 
ence  of  the  Sultana,  changed  instantly  to  a  scowl  when 
he  saw  Sher  Afghan.  Moreover,  he  discovered  the 
presence  of  the  Englishmen,  and  he  affected  a  tone  of 
surprised  displeasure. 

"How  now,  Diwan!"  he  demanded.  "Do  you 
admit  strangers  to  the  privacy  of  your  zenana  ?  " 

"These  are  merchants  from  Ahmedabad.  The 
Queen  has  commanded  them  to  show  their  wares  at  the 
palace,"  was  the  courteous  reply  of  the  aged  Prime 
Minister. 

Jahangir  smiled  contemptuously.  The  foreigners  in 
no  wise  disturbed  him.  He  knew  quite  well  that  his 
insult  had  reached  the  one  man  for  whom  it  was 
intended.  Sher  Afghan's  pale  face  grew  dark  with 
anger. 

"Oh,  it  is  matterless,"  said  the  Prince,  flippantly, 
and  he  addressed  Nur  Mahal  with  a  ready  smile  that 
utterly  banished  the  anger  from  his  expressive  features. 

"  Fair  lady,"  he  said,  "  I  have  brought  you  a  present. 
I  know  your  fondness  for  all  that  is  rare  and  beautiful. 
See  if  my  gift  will  earn  your  approval." 
[106] 


He  clapped  his  hands,  and  a  servant  came,  carrying 
a  small  gilded  perch  to  which  clung  two  snow-white 
pigeons,  each  fastened  to  the  crossbar  by  a  short  silver 
chain. 

Nur  Mahal  uttered  a  cry  of  pleasure.  She  ran  to 
meet  the  man  with  arms  outstretched. 

"They  are  quite  tame,"  said  the  gratified  Prince. 
"After  a  little  while  they  will  come  at  your  call  and 
perch  on  your  wrist." 

She  took  the  birds  and  caressed  them  softly.  Sud 
denly,  yielding  to  impulse,  she  unfastened  a  chain,  and 
the  pigeon,  finding  itself  at  liberty,  darted  up  into  the 
air  and  flew  around  in  rapid  circles,  crying  loudly  to 
its  mate  the  while. 

"  How  did  that  happen  ?  "  demanded  Jahangir. 

"Thus,"  she  answered,  freeing  the  second  bird. 

"But  they  are  unused  to  the  garden  as  yet.  You 
have  lost  them." 

"Sooner  that  than  take  away  their  freedom.  My 
heart  weeps  for  all  who  are  destined  to  captivity." 

"  Then  you  weep  for  me,  as  I  am  truly  your  captive." 

"Ah,  my  bondage  would  be  pleasant,  and,  like  the 
birds,  you  could  fly  away  when  you  chose." 

At  that  instant  one  of  the  pigeons  dropped  with 
angelic  flutterings,  and  poised  itself  on  the  perch  which 
the  girl  still  held. 

The  other,  timidly  daring,  followed  its  mate's  exam 
ple,  but  settled  on  the  same  side. 

"See!"  cried  Jahangir  excitedly.     "The  choice  is 
made.     They  come  back  to  their  fetters!" 
[107] 


"Your  Highness  will  observe  that  there  are  two  to 
dispute  the  vacant  place,"  interposed  Sher  Afghan. 

The  icy  distinctness  of  his  words  showed  that  the 
significance  of  the  little  comedy  played  by  Nur  Mahal 
had  not  escaped  him.  The  girl  pouted.  Jahangir 
wheeled  about  fiercely.  A  quarrel  was  imminent,  but 
Queen  Mariam  stopped  it. 

"Sher  Afghan,"  she  said,  "you,  who  are  a  soldier, 
should  not  take  much  interest  in  this  idle  playing  with 
doves.  As  I  return  soon  to  the  palace,  go  with  the 
strangers  and  let  them  exhibit  their  wares  there  after 
the  midday  meal.  That  will  better  suit  my  conven 
ience  than  the  customary  hour  to-morrow." 

Bowing  silently,  the  Persian  motioned  to  Mowbray 
and  Sainton  to  follow  him.  He  spoke  no  word,  but  a 
tumult  raged  within,  and,  at  the  gate,  when  a  servant 
was  slow  in  opening  it,  he  felled  the  man  with  a  blow. 
Instantly  regretting  the  deed  he  gave  the  fellow  a  gold 
mohur,  but  his  face  was  tense  and  his  eyes  blazed  as 
he  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  silently  with  the  two 
Englishmen  through  the  midst  of  the  gay  retinue  which 
had  escorted  Prince  Jahangir  from  the  palace.  Guess 
ing  with  fair  accuracy  the  hidden  meaning  of  the  scene 
just  enacted,  Mowbray  did  not  intrude  on  the  sorrowful 
thoughts  of  his  Persian  friend. 

"We  are  in  luck's  way,  Roger,"  he  said  quietly. 
"  We  have  escaped  the  Diwan  and  won  the  door  of  the 
Queen's  apartments.  If  the  good  lady  be  as  ready  to 
pay  as  she  is  to  buy,  this  bazaar  to-morrow  should  ease 
us  of  all  our  goods." 

[108] 


The  Great  Mogul 

"  In  which  event  we  shall  turn  our  faces  westward  ?  " 
asked  Sainton. 

"Assuredly.  We  must  settle  with  Edwards,  else  I 
would  take  the  river  to  Calcutta." 

"Ecod!  From  the  manner  in  which  you  gazed  at 
that  hoity-toity  lass  in  yellow  silk  I  thought  you  were 
minded  to  dally  in  Agra." 

For  some  subtle  reason  the  remark  nettled  Mowbray. 

"  We  have  already  met  two  who  are  willing  to  come 
to  blows  about  her,"  said  he, tartly,  "but  I  fail  to  see 
why  you  should  hold  me  capable  of  the  folly  of  making 
a  third." 

"  Nay,  nay,"  said  Sainton,  with  irritating  composure. 
"I  credit  thee  with  wisdom  beyond  thy  years,  but  if 
Solomon,  who  had  three  thousand  wives,  could  go  daft 
about  yet  an  extra  woman,  there  is  small  cause  why 
thou,  who  hast  no  wife  at  all,  shouldst  not  be  bitten 
by  the  craze.  I  warrant  you  Prince  Jahangir  hath  a 
bevy  of  beauties  in  his  private  abode,  and  this  chuck 
who  hangs  his  head  so  dolefully  may  have  half  a  score 
or  more  waiting  his  beck  and  nod  at  home,  yet  they 
both  are  keen  to  fall  to  with  sword  and  dagger  to  dispute 
the  possession  of  the  quean  we  have  just  quitted. 
'Garden  of  Heart's  Delight,'  i'  faith!  The  flower 
they  all  seek  there  is  of  a  kind  that  stings  in  the  pluck- 
ing." 

Mowbray,  conscious  that  the  dethronement  of  Nellie 
Roe  in  his  mind  was  but  momentary,  regained  his 
normal  good  humor. 

"You  are  in  a  mood  for  preaching  this  morning," 
[109] 


The  Great  Mogul 

he  cried.  "Now,  had  your  tongue  run  so  smoothly 
when  the  Sultana  was  present,  you  might  have  won  her 
favor,  as  all  the  women  have  an  eye  for  you,  Roger." 

"A  murrain  on  the  barbarous  words  that  trip  my 
speech !  I  could  talk  to  her  Majesty  in  honest  York 
shire,  and  I  can  make  some  headway  in  the  language 
of  the  common  folk  hereabout,  but  when  it  comes  to 
your  pretty  poesy  of  Shiraz  I  am  perforce  dumb  as  a 
Whitby  mussel." 

Here,  Sher  Afghan,  rousing  himself  from  a  mournful 
reverie,  began  to  hum  a  verse  of  a  well-known  Persian 
love  song :  — 

"O  love!  for  you  I  could  die; 
'Tis    death    from    your    presence    to    fly; 
O  love!  will  the  pain  never  end? 
Will  our  hearts  ne'er  in  unison  blend?" 

They  were  crossing  the  bridge  of  boats  at  the  moment, 
and  the  singer,  more  occupied  with  his  thoughts  than 
with  external  events,  did  not  notice  that  a  laden  camel, 
advancing  down  the  center  of  the  swaying  roadway, 
gave  the  party  little  enough  room  to  pass  on  one  side. 

Walter  drew  his  attention  to  the  fact.  The  Persian, 
disdainful  of  the  lower  orders  as  were  all  of  his  class, 
spurred  his  mettlesome  Arab  forward,  caught  the 
lounging  unt  by  the  halter  and  imperiously  swung  the 
beast  to  one  side. 

A  shriek  rang  out  wildly  from  behind  the  camel, 
whose  load  of  firewood  had  struck  a  native  woman 
walking  on  the  side  of  the  bridge.  She  staggered  and 
[110] 


fell.  The  infant  she  carried  was  jerked  out  of  her  arms 
into  the  river. 

Walter,  who  saw  what  had  happened,  sprang  from 
his  horse,  jumped  into  the  water,  which  was  deep 
enough  at  that  point  to  drown  a  man,  and  caught  the 
little  naked  child  as  it  rose,  struggling  and  gasping  for 
breath.  With  a  vigorous  stroke  or  two  he  reached  the 
side  of  the  nearest  pontoon.  Roger  leaned  over,  seized 
the  collar  of  his  friend's  jacket,  and  lifted  him  and  the 
baby  back  to  the  firmer  footing  of  the  bridge. 

The  distraught  mother  flung  herself  at  Mowbray's 
feet  and  wound  her  arms  around  his  ankles,  thereby 
embarrassing  him  greatly,  as  he  was  soaked  from  head 
to  foot,  and  the  dense  crowd  which  gathered  with 
extraordinary  speed  threatened  to  block  the  bridge  for 
an  hour. 

Sher  Afghan,  who  was  divided  between  wonder  that 
a  man  should  take  so  much  trouble  to  rescue  a  wretched 
infant  and  amazement  at  Roger's  feat  of  strength,  for 
Sainton  had  lifted  Walter  clean  over  the  rails  of  the 
bridge  with  one  hand,  now  awoke  to  actualities. 

He  beat  a  path  through  the  gaping  mob,  extricated 
Mowbray  from  the  extravagant  gratitude  of  the  Hindu 
woman,  and  quickly  led  the  two  Englishmen  to  the 
open  road  beyond  the  river. 

"Did  you  not  know  that  the  Jumna  swarms  with 
crocodiles?"  he  asked,  when  they  were  all  mounted 
again,  and  riding  onward  at  a  sharp  pace. 

"Yes,"  said  Walter. 

"Then,  by  the  tomb  of  the  Prophet,  you  did  that 
[111] 


The  Great  Mogul 

which  I  would  not  have  done  for  the  sake  of  any  brat 
in  Agra." 

"  I  gave  no  thought  to  it,  or  perchance  I  should  have 
hesitated,"  was  the  modest  reply. 

The  incident  served  one  good  purpose.  It  effectually 
banished  Sher  Afghan's  love  vapors,  and  he  exerted 
himself  so  well  in  behalf  of  his  new  acquaintances  that 
they  and  their  packs  (Walter  having  donned  dry  cloth 
ing)  were  admitted  to  the  palace  at  the  appointed  hour, 
and  marshaled  past  countless  officials  who  would 
otherwise  have  barred  their  path. 

The  great  fortress,  in  the  center  of  which  lay  the 
royal  apartments,  was  a  city  in  itself.  Its  frowning 
walls  of  dark  red  sandstone,  sixty  feet  in  height  and 
defended  by  many  a  tower  and  machicolated  battle 
ment,  surrounded  a  low  hill.  This  was  crowned  by 
the  famous  Moti  Musjid,  or  Pearl  Mosque,  an  edifice 
as  celebrated  to-day  for  its  perfect  architectural  pro 
portions  and  refined  taste  in  embellishment  as  it  was 
when  the  Great  Mogul,  during  his  daily  orisons,  occu 
pied  the  small  floor  slab  nearest  to  the  northwest,  and, 
behind  him,  six  hundred  and  forty-nine  nobles  bent  in 
devout  homage  towards  Mecca. 

The  Hall  of  Public  Audience,  a  splendid  structure, 
was  separated  from  the  mosque  by  a  large  garden. 
Near  this  rallying  ground  for  all  having  business  with 
the  court  stood  the  smaller  but  even  more  impressive 
Hall  of  Private  Audience,  to  which  there  was  direct 
access  from  the  Emperor's  personal  apartments.  The 
Zenana,  marked  by  its  exquisite  Jasmine  Tower,  con- 
[112] 


The  Great  Mogul 

taining  the  Sultana's  boudoir  and  giving  a  far-spread 
view  across  the  Jumna,  lay  beyond. 

These  buildings,  and  many  another,  constructed 
almost  exclusively  of  white  marble  and  decorated  with 
scrollwork  festoons  of  flowers  wrought  wholly  in  pre 
cious  stones,  shone  in  the  rays  of  the  afternoon  sun 
as  the  Englishmen  passed  through  the  somber  depths 
of  the  great  City  Gate  and  entered  the  open  space 
surrounding  the  palace. 

That  they  were  the  cynosure  of  many  eyes  goes 
without  saying.  But  here,  curiosity  was  restrained. 
The  grave  courtesy  of  an  Eastern  court  was  blended 
with  the  iron  discipline  enforced  by  a  powerful  ruler 
like  Akbar. 

"The  King's  order!"  said  Sher  Afghan,  and  before 
the  King's  order  every  head  bent. 

Thus,  avoiding  the  crowd  which  thronged  the  path 
leading  to  the  spacious  Hall  of  Public  Audience,  where 
the  Emperor  in  person  was  then  dispensing  justice  with 
that  even-handed  promptitude  which  won  him  the 
respect  of  all  his  subjects  irrespective  of  class  or  creed, 
Sher  Afghan  led  them  to  a  secluded  stairway. 

Certain  formalities  needed  fulfilment  before  the 
strangers  or  their  goods  were  allowed  to  ascend.  Guards 
with  drawn  swords  stood  there,  and  even  Sher  Afghan 
himself  was  compelled  to  satisfy  the  high-pitched  ques 
tions  of  a  gorgeously  robed  eunuch  ere  sanction  was 
given  to  advance. 

Mowbray  and  Sainton,  eager  to  witness  the  successful 
end  of  their  twelve  hundred  miles'  journey,  were  more 
[113] 


The  Great  Mogul 

concerned,  doubtless,  to  display  their  silks  and  spices, 
their  rich  store  of  Arabian  and  Persian  goods,  than  to 
note  the  marvels  in  sculptured  stone  with  which  they 
were  encircled.  A  mosaic  pavement  worth  a  mon 
arch's  ransom  was  to  them  only  a  fine  space  for  opening 
out  bales  of  cloth  cunningly  bedizened  with  gold  thread, 
whilst  a  balcony  of  carved  marble  served  excellently  as 
a  counter. 

At  last,  when  all  was  ready,  a  messenger  was 
despatched  to  the  Sultana.  Queen  Mariana  came 
promptly,  and  with  her  were  many  ladies  of  the 
court.  They  were  all  veiled,  as  was  the  strict  rule 
when  the  Emperor  was  near  at  hand,  but  among 
them  Sher  Afghan,  and  perhaps  Mowbray,  looked  in 
vain  for  the  sylph -like  form  of  Nur  Mahal. 

The  scrutiny  commenced  at  once.  "  Shopping  "  was 
as  dear  to  the  heart  of  those  Eastern  dames  as  to  their 
sisters  of  other  climes  and  modern  days.  The  babble 
of  tongues  waxed  eloquent,  and  the  two  traders,  com 
paratively  new  as  they  were  to  the  occupation,  saw 
with  gratification  that  the  Sultana  was  as  loud  in  her 
appreciation  of  the  novelties  spread  before  her  eyes  as 
was  the  youngest  lady  in  her  train. 

All  was  going  well;  Queen  Mariam  had  asked  the 
value  of  the  whole  consignment,  and  Mowbray,  with 
some  trepidation,  had  added  half  a  lakh  to  the  lakh  of 
rupees  with  which  he  would  be  well  content  —  expect 
ing,  indeed,  to  obtain  no  more  than  the  latter  sum  at 
the  close  of  the  bargaining  —  when  a  sudden  hush,  a 
drawing  together  of  the  women,  a  protest  suspended 
[114] 


The  Great  Mogul 

in  its  utterance  by  the  Sultana  herself,  announced  that 
the  elderly  man  dressed  solely  in  white  muslin,  who 
entered  the  hall  from  a  raised  veranda  at  the  further 
end,  could  be  none  other  than  the  Emperor. 

His  appearance  was  at  once  engaging  arid  dignified. 
Not  so  tall  as  his  eldest  son,  he  was  even  broader  in 
build.  Possessed  of  prodigious  muscular  strength,  due 
to  the  great  breadth  of  his  chest  and  his  long,  sinewy 
arms  and  hands,  Akbar  looked  a  ruler  of  men  both  in 
physical  and  intellectual  properties.  His  eyes  were  full 
and  penetrating,  with  eyebrows  that  met  in  a  straight 
line  over  his  well  shaped  nose.  His  face,  a  ruddy 
brown  in  color,  was  firm  yet  kindly  in  expression.  His 
forehead  was  high  and  open,  and  in  the  front  folds  of 
his  white  turban  lay  a  single  large  ruby  in  which  the 
sun  kindled  a  fiery  glare. 

He  surveyed  the  scene  in  silence  for  a  moment. 
Then,  as  his  glance  dwelt  on  Sainton,  a  somewhat 
prepossessed  smile  gave  place  to  a  look  of  genuine 
surprise.  He  turned  and  uttered  some  comment  to 
one  behind,  and,  as  he  strode  forward,  they  saw  that 
he  was  accompanied  by  the  Prime  Minister,  Itimad- 
ud-Daula. 

Every  man  present,  save  the  armed  guards  and  the 
two  Englishmen,  dropped  to  his  knees  and  bent  his 
forehead  to  the  ground,  but  Mowbray  and  Roger,  not 
accustomed  to  genuflection,  contented  themselves  with 
bowing  deeply. 

The  Emperor  was  in  no  wise  offended.     He  smiled 
again,  showing  his  teeth  plainly. 
[115] 


The  Great  Mogul 

"They  told  me  you  were  a  big  man,"  he  said  to 
Sainton,  "  but  are  you  a  strong  one  ?  Big  men  are  oft 
like  long-backed  horses  —  they  bend  when  the  strain 
comes." 

Luckily,  Roger  understood  him,  and,  though  his 
Hindustani  was  rude,  be  sure  it  never  lacked  point. 

"  I  do  not  think,"  he  said,  "  that  my  back  is  too  long 
for  my  height,  your  Majesty.  Be  that  as  it  may,  they 
tell  me  there  is  no  better  judge  of  strength,  whether  of 
man  or  horse,  than  your  Majesty  in  all  India." 

"By  the  shade  of  Nizam-ud-din,  this  giant  is  no 
fool ! "  cried  Akbar,  whose  voice,  though  loud,  was  very 
pleasant.  "  Were  I  younger  I  would  test  thee,  Ele 
phant,  but  that  day  is  past.  Tell  me,  couldst  thou 
shear  two  tigers'  heads  with  a  single  stroke?" 

"  Yes,  if  your  Majesty  first  tied  both  heads  together." 

"Allah,  here  is  a  spark  after  my  own  heart!  What 
is  thy  name  ?  " 

"Roger  Sainton,  may  it  please  your  Majesty." 

"Raja  Sainton!  If  you  be  of  noble  rank  why  do 
you  come  hither  in  the  guise  of  a  trader  ?  " 

Sainton  was  puzzled,  as  Akbar's  elegant  diction 
rendered  the  mistake  difficult  to  understand,  so  Mow- 
bray,  in  a  few  well-chosen  words,  set  things  right. 

The  Emperor  gave  a  quick  glance  at  Walter,  and 
seemed  instantly  to  appreciate  the  relation  between  the 
two.  But  he  addressed  himself  again  to  Roger:  — 

"You  have  traveled  far,  and  are  welcome.  To-day 
I  am  busy,  or  I  would  discourse  with  you  further.  Be 
here  to-morrow,  two  hours  before  sunset,  and  we  shall 
[116] 


The  Great  Mogul 

give  each  other  entertainment.     Meanwhile,  what  can 
I  do  for  you  and  your  friend  ?  " 

Sainton,  filled  with  the  sense  of  camaraderie  which 
makes  men  of  kindred  sympathies  quickly  known  to 
each  other,  realized  that  Akbar  would  not  resent  a 
little  familiarity. 

"Sir,"  he  said,  "if  you  buy  our  goods  and  give  us 
good  cheer  we  shall  do  that  which  those  in  your  court 
ought  to  do  every  day,  but  fail  therein  most  scandal 
ously,  I  fear." 

"And  what  is  that?" 

"We  shall  pray  to  God  for  your  health  and  happi 
ness." 

Akbar  grasped  him  by  the  shoulder. 

"  List,  all  of  you,"  he  shouted.  "  Here  is  our  Elephant 
showing  his  wisdom.  By  the  Prophet's  beard,  I  regret, 
for  once,  that  there  is  peace  in  our  dominions,  else  you 
and  I,  Elephant,  should  go  to  the  war  ere  ever  you 
sailed  away  to  your  distant  land.  But  we  shall  find 
sport,  or  my  wit  fails.  You,  sir,"  he  went  on,  speaking 
to  Mowbray,  "shall  tell  us  something  of  the  ways  of 
your  country  when  the  Elephant  and  I  have  wearied 
ourselves.  Meanwhile,  the  Sultana  will  buy  your  wares 
at  your  own  rates.  I  judge  as  much  by  the  cackle  of 
women's  voices  I  heard  as  I  came  hither." 

By  way  of  a  joke  he  gave  Sainton's  shoulder  a 
farewell  squeeze  that  would  have  dislocated  many  a 
man's  bones.  Roger,  pretending  he  had  not  felt  it, 
stooped  and  picked  up  a  small  brass  jar  which  he 
grasped  around  its  narrow  neck. 
[117] 


The  Great  Mogul 

"Let  me  give  your  Majesty  a  reminder  of  to-mor 
row's  meeting,"  he  said. 

The  Emperor,  seeing  more  in  the  words  than  their 
mere  purport,  took  the  jar.  Roger  had  bent  the  brass 
cylinder  into  a  double  fold. 

"  Thanks,  friend,"  he  said,  quietly.  "  'Tis  well  it 
was  not  my  neck  which  received  that  grip,  else  there 
would  be  a  new  ruler  in  India.  And,  by  the  Koran ! " 
he  added  under  his  breath,  "I  am  minded  now  of 
another  matter." 

He  looked  around  until  he  caught  sight  of  Sher 
Afghan,  standing  somewhat  apart  from  the  listening 
crowd. 

"My  young  friend,"  cried  he,  "I  have  been  dis 
cussing  you  with  my  trusted  Diwan.  He  agrees  with 
me  that  you  should  provide  his  beautiful  daughter  with 
a  careful  husband.  Marry  her  forthwith!  To-night, 
if  you  be  so  minded !  And  lest  anyone  should  dispute 
the  prize  with  you  take  a  troop  of  horse  to  escort  you 
to  Burdwan." 

Bombs  were  hardly  known  in  India  at  that  period, 
but  the  explosion  of  a  live  shell  in  the  midst  of  the 
company  would  have  created  a  sensation  little  more 
profound  than  Akbar's  words.  Nur  Mahal,  that  fiery 
beauty,  to  be  wed  forthwith  to  Sher  Afghan!  What 
would  Prince  Jahangir  say? 


[H8] 


CHAPTER  VIII 

"The  trenchant  blade,  Toledo  trusty, 
For  want  of  fighting  had  grown  rusty." 

Sutler's  "Hudibras,"  Part  I,  Canto  I. 

YET  all  knew  it  mattered  not  a  jot  what  Jahangir 
said.  The  Diwan  had  given  his  consent,  the  Emperor 
his  approval,  and  it  was  common  knowledge  that  both 
were  acting  for  the  welfare  of  the  state  in  putting  an 
effectual  stop  to  the  infatuation  of  the  heir  apparent 
for  a  girl  with  whom  a  recognized  alliance  was  impolitic 
if  not  impossible. 

But  Queen  Mariana,  all  of  a  tremble  by  reason  of  her 
fear  lest  Jahangir's  madness  should  lead  him  to  excess, 
ventured  to  utter  a  word  of  protest. 

"  My  Lord,"  she  said,  "  this  decision  hath  been  taken 
suddenly." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  asked  Akbar,  pleasantly.  His 
composure  disconcerted  her.  Nevertheless,  love  for 
her  eldest  bom  and  favorite  son  gave  her  strength. 

"Yes,"  she  cried.  "I  would  force  no  maid  to  wed 
where  her  heart  is  not  set.  It  oft  leads  to  evil." 

"Ah!"  he  answered,  "you  are  becoming  an  old 
woman.  Were  I  one  also  I  might  think  like  you." 

The  kindly  tone  of  his  words  deprived  them  of  their 
sting.  When  he  clenched  an  argument  in  such  wise 
[119] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Akbar  had  a  habit  of  stroking  a  large  wart  on  the  left 
side  of  his  nose,  a  slight  disfigurement  which  astrologers 
assured  him  was  a  most  propitious  sign.  Gently  rub 
bing  the  wart  now  he  turned  again  towards  Sher 
Afghan. 

"Has  delight  rendered  thee  dumb?"  he  growled 
good  humoredly. 

"  Not  so,  O  King  of  Kings,"  cried  the  young  Persian. 
"Fearing  that  my  ears  betrayed  me  I  was  silent. 
When  your  Majesty  speaks  all  tongues  are  stilled.  I 
have  but  two  possessions  which  I  cherish,  my  sword 
and  my  honor.  The  one  has  always  been  and  will 
ever  be  at  your  Majesty's  disposal;  the  other  I  fly  to 
place  at  the  feet  of  Nur  Mahal."  , 

By  this  fearless  utterance,  Sher  Afghan  accepted  the 
Emperor's  command  and  flung  defiance  to  all  others. 
Salaaming  deeply,  he  withdrew.  In  the  hush  which 
had  fallen  on  the  assembly  they  heard  him  rush  down 
the  outer  stairs,  and,  an  instant  later,  the  clatter  of  his 
Arab's  hoofs  as  he  rode  towards  the  gate  showed  that 
the  wedding  ceremony  would  not  be  delayed  by  any 
dilatoriness  on  the  part  of  the  bridegroom. 

Akbar  vanished.  The  Diwan,  who  had  not  taken 
any  overt  part  in  the  scene,  followed  him,  and  the 
Sultana,  without  casting  another  glance  at  the  brave 
array  of  merchandise,  withdrew  with  her  retinue. 

Mowbray  and  Sainton  were  left  gazing  blankly  at 

each  other,  but  an  official,  knowing  better  than  they 

the  domestic  trouble  which  was  brewing  in  the  royal 

household,  advised  them  to  repack  their  goods,  as,  in 

[120] 


The  Great  Mogul 

his  opinion,  the  bazaar  projected  for  the  morrow  would 
certainly  be  abandoned. 

"  I  thought  for  sure  yon  sloe-eyed  wench  would  bring 
us  no  luck,"  muttered  Roger  when  he  heard  Mowbray 
bidding  their  servants  load  up  their  mules  again.  "  My 
mother  always  advised  me  to  wed  a  homely  wife  if  I 
wanted  to  be  happy.  Not  that  she  was  ill-looking 
herself,  but  I  have  heard  her  say  that  my  father  never 
had  spirit  enough  to  quarrel  with  anybody." 

"On  my  word,  Roger,"  laughed  Walter,  smothering 
his  own  annoyance  at  the  turn  taken  by  events,  "you 
look  as  glum  as  Lot's  wife  when  she  lost  the  use  of  her 
feet." 

"Who  wouldn't!"  demanded  Sainton.  "We  had 
the  silver  as  good  as  in  our  breeches  pockets,  when  some 
imp  of  mischief  set  the  King  to  scratch  his  nose  and 
talk  about  marriage." 

"  All  is  not  lost  yet.  I  trust  to  your  wit  to  make  his 
Majesty  realize  to-morrow  in  what  fashion  he  spoiled 
our  market.  At  the  worst,  we  retain  our  goods,  and 
still  can  trade  in  the  bazaar." 

Two  journeys  through  the  tortuous  streets  of  the 
city,  joined  to  the  labor  of  unpacking  and  packing  their 
bales  at  the  palace,  had  occupied  so  much  of  the  short 
November  afternoon  that  the  sun  was  setting  with  the 
rapidity  peculiar  to  the  tropics  ere  they  reached  the 
caravansary. 

The  smoke  of  many  fires  clung  to  the  ground,  spread 
ing  over  the  streets  and  open  spaces  a  hazy  pall  some 
ten  feet  in  height.  Beneath,  all  was  murky  and  dim; 
[121] 


The  Great  Mogul 

above,  the  tops  of  trees  and  the  upper  stories  of  houses 
were  sharply  silhouetted  against  the  deep  crimson-blue 
of  the  sky,  whilst  the  stars  were  already  twinkling  in 
myriads  overhead.  This  coverlet  of  smoke  creeps 
nightly  over  every  Indian  town  in  the  cold  weather. 
It  is  disagreeable  to  the  eyes  and  nose  if  not  to  the 
artistic  senses,  and  the  haze  is  ofttimes  so  dense  during 
the  hours  before  midnight  that,  in  the  crowded  bazaar, 
the  range  of  vision  becomes  lessened  and  even  familiar 
objects  cannot  be  recognized  until  they  are  close  at 
hand. 

The  phenomenon  was  familiar  enough  to  the  two 
travelers  not  to  excite  their  notice  on  this  occasion  save 
in  one  respect.  It  was  essential  that  heed  should  be 
given  to  the  fondness  of  native  servants  for  appro 
priating  articles  which  did  not  belong  to  them.  Naught 
could  be  easier  than  for  a  pack  animal  to  be  slyly  driven 
into  a  by-path,  whence  it  would  never  return,  whilst 
search  for  it  and  its  valuable  burden  would  be  time 
wasted.  So  now,  as  on  every  other  night  when  they 
chanced  to  be  belated,  Mowbray  and  Sainton  kept  a 
sharp  eye  on  their  train,  and  stood  at  the  gate  of  the 
caravansary  until  each  mule  and  bullock  had  filed 
within  its  portals. 

They  were  engaged  in  this  task  when  the  chant  of 
palki-bearers  and  the  glare  of  torches  lighting  up  the 
roadway  apprised  them  that  some  person  of  importance 
was  being  carried  toward  Agra  from  the  direction  of 
Delhi  and  the  north.  The  carriers  were  singing  cheer 
fully,  announcing  in  rhyme  the  close  of  a  long  march, 


and  setting  forth  the  joys  of  rice  and  ghi  at  the  end  of 
the  day's  toil. 

But  the  verse  stopped  suddenly,  and  the  rapid  shuffle 
of  naked  feet  through  the  dust  gave  place  to  the  objur 
gations  of  the  torch-bearers  addressed  to  the  muleteers 
and  bullock  tenders  of  the  Englishmen's  cortege. 
Native  servants  curse  each  other  fluently  on  the  slightest 
provocation,  so  a  lively  exchange  of  compliments  affect 
ing  the  paternity  and  ancestry  of  both  parties  instantly 
broke  out.  In  reality,  nothing  could  be  done.  The 
mules  and  bullocks,  eager  as  their  drivers  to  have 
finished  with  the  day's  work,  were  crowding  into  the 
caravansary,  and  the  palki,  or  litter,  could  not  pass  for  a 
minute  or  so  unless  the  bearers  quitted  the  beaten  track 
and  made  a  detour  behind  the  mud  hovels  which  faced 
the  rest-house.  Glad  of  a  moment's  respite  the  coolies 
preferred  to  halt,  and  wag  their  tongues  scandalously. 

Walter,  somewhat  amused  by  the  scene,  did  not 
interfere.  There  was  only  one  palki,  but  the  number 
of  retainers  and  loaded  ponies  behind  showed  that  the 
traveler  was  some  one  of  consequence. 

The  occupant  of  the  litter,  evidently  wondering  what 
caused  the  commotion,  drew  apart  the  curtains  on  the 
side  opposite  to  that  on  which  Mowbray  was  standing, 
Sainton,  urging  on  the  rearmost  of  their  train,  being  at 
some  little  distance. 

A  Pathan  torch-bearer  approached  the  palki,  and, 
as  luck  would  have  it,  Roger  came  to  Mowbray  at  that 
moment  to  tell  him  that  his  count  tallied  with  their 
reckoning. 

[123] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Something  said  by  the  Pathan  caused  his  employer 
to  withdraw  the  second  set  of  curtains.  Hence,  the 
light  of  the  torch  illumined  the  interior  of  the  litter  and 
revealed  most  clearly  the  identity  of  its  tenant. 

Walter  would  scarce  have  believed  his  eyes  had  not 
Roger  muttered :  — 

"'Fore  God,  'its  Dom  Geronimo!" 

"He  and  no  other,"  whispered  Walter.  "I  knew 
there  were  Jesuits  in  Agra,  but  they  are  well  spoken  of, 
and  I  never  dreamed  that  this  wretch  was  numbered 
among  them." 

"He  knows  us,  too,"  growled  Sainton.  "Why 
should  we  not  requite  him  for  the  ill  he  would  have 
done  us.  '  Return  good  for  evil,'  saith  the  maxim,  and 
'twill  be  a  good  deed  to  let  some  of  the  bad  blood  out 
of  him." 

"No,  no.  It  would  ruin  our  cause  with  Akbar. 
Though  he  is  our  enemy,  he  is  less  able  to  work  us 
harm  in  this  heathen  land  than  in  our  own  country. 
Let  him  pass.  I  vow  he  takes  us  for  malign  spirits, 
come  back  to  earth  to  vex  him." 

Certainly  the  aspect  of  Dom  Geronimo's  face  as  the 
palki  moved  on  and  his  carriers  resumed  their  song  was 
that  of  a  man  who  gazed  at  a  threatening  vision. 
Incredulity  blended  with  fear  at  first,  to  be  succeeded 
by  a  glance  of  utmost  malevolence  as  his  shocked  senses 
resumed  their  sway.  That  he  recognized  the  two 
friends  was  not  to  be  doubted.  Sainton's  gigantic 
stature  alone  marked  him  out  from  other  men,  and,  at 
that  season  of  the  year,  their  garb  did  not  differ  mate- 
[124J 


The  Great  Mogul 

rially  from  the  clothes  they  wore  when  the  Jesuit  left 
them  to  their  fate  on  board  the  Spanish  vessel  in  the 
Thames. 

He  closed  the  curtains  of  his  palki  with  an  angry 
gesture,  as  though  the  sight  of  them  was  displeasing  to 
him.  Yet  Dom  Geronimo  would  have  been  a  lucky 
man  in  that  hour  had  he  blotted  them  from  his  memory 
as  well. 

Nevertheless,  his  contemptuous  action  served  to  hide 
from  him  the  fact  that  Roger  reached  out  a  long  arm 
and  detained  a  fellow  who  was  hastening  in  the  rear  of 
the  Jesuit's  retainers. 

"Whence  comes  thy  master?"  he  said  gruffly. 

"From  Lahore,  sahib,"  was  the  stuttering  reply,  for 
the  man  was  frightened  by  the  size  of  his  questioner. 

"And  whither  is  he  bound?" 

"To  the  court  of  the  mighty  Akbar,  O  protector  of 
the  poor." 

"  Hath  he  been  long  in  these  parts  ?  " 

"  I  know  not,  huzoor.     I  am  a  poor  man  —  " 

"Treat  him  easily,  Roger,"  put  in  Walter.  "See 
now,  brother,  here  is  a  rupee  for  thee.  How  is  thy 
master  known  ?  " 

"  He  is  called  the  Fire-Father,"  answered  the  native, 
reassured  by  the  sight  of  the  money  and  the  relaxation 
of  Roger's  grip.  "  They  say  he  earned  the  name  from 
the  Emperor  himself,  because  once,  when  a  moullah 
disputed  with  him,  the  black-robed  one  challenged  the 
moullah  to  enter  with  him  into  a  raging  fire.  The  one 
would  carry  the  Koran  and  the  other  a  Book  by  which 
[125] 


The  Great  Mogul 

he  sets  great  store.  Then,  he  said,  it  would  readily  be 
seen  whether  Mahomet  or  He  whom  he  calls  Christ 
were  the  more  powerful.  But  the  moullah  hung  back, 
and  the  Emperor  laughed,  I  have  been  told." 

"  Aye,"  said  Roger  in  English,  "  he  has  faith  enough 
and  to  spare,  I  warrant  ye.  Anyone  who  believes  that 
Spain  can  win  her  way  in  England  will  believe  owt. 
And  as  for  fire,  God  wot,  he  hath  the  stomach  of  a 
salamander  for  it.  Now,  had  I  been  the  moullah,  I 
would  have  bid  him  go  first  into  the  flames,  when,  an 
he  survived  the  ordeal,  Mahmoud  should  be  scouted 
as  a  rank  impostor." 

They  could  obtain  little  further  information  from  the 
servant  so  they  bade  him  hasten  after  his  master,  and, 
to  still  his  tongue,  Walter  gave  him  another  silver  coin. 

Though  the  presence  of  Dom  Geronimo  in  Agra  was 
an  omen  of  bad  fortune,  they  agreed,  in  converse  over 
a  meal  of  which  they  were  much  in  need,  that  his  ani 
mosity  would  be  exerted  in  vain  if  they  maintained  the 
good  relations  already  established  with  the  Emperor. 
Akbar  was  renowned  for  his  religious  tolerance.  The 
tale  told  by  the  native  was  one  of  many  which  revealed 
this  generous  trait  in  a  ruler  deservedly  entitled  "the 
Great."  The  Jesuits,  coming  to  India  in  the  wake  of 
the  Portuguese,  were  already  well  established  in  Agra, 
where  they  were  then  building  a  splendid  church. 
They  and  the  Capuchins,  composed,  for  the  most  part, 
of  learned  and  truly  pious  men,  not  only  commanded 
respect  by  their  discretion  and  Christian  meekness,  but 
won  the  admiration  of  the  educated  classes  by  their 
[126] 


The  Great  Mogul 

scientific  knowledge.  It  was  probable  that  the  religious 
zeal  of  a  fanatic  like  Dom  Geronimo  would  be  re 
strained  by  his  wiser  brethren.  His  intemperate  lan 
guage  had  earned  him  a  typical  soubriquet,  which  stood 
out  in  curious  contrast  to  the  charity  of  the  doctrines 
preached  by  eminent  missionaries  like  Father  Joseph 
d'Acosta,  a  Portuguese,  and  Father  Henri  Busee,  a 
Fleming. 

"I  have  heard,"  said  Mowbray,  expounding  some 
such  theory  to  Roger,  "  that  the  Emperor  once  became 
impatient  at  the  reproaches  of  the  moullahs,  who  were 
ever  denying  him  the  use  of  certain  meats  and  wines. 
'If  these  things  are  forbidden  by  the  Koran,'  said  he, 
'  according  to  what  religion  can  a  man  eat  and  drink  as 
he  likes?'  'That  is  the  teaching  of  the  Christians 
alone,'  said  they.  'Then  let  us  all  turn  Christians,' 
said  Akbar.  'Let  tailors  convert  our  loose  garments 
into  closer  fitting  coats,  and  fashion  our  turbans  into 
hats.'  He  frightened  them,  and  they  all  declared  that, 
however  it  might  be  for  common  men,  the  Koran  did 
not  affect  the  sovereign." 

"Be  that  as  it  may,"  said  Sainton,  "and  the  tale  is 
not  unlike  some  in  vogue  about  our  own  Jamie,  I  am 
a  believer  in  portents.  Here  we  are  in  Agra,  and  not  a 
whole  day  before  we  run  up  against  a  girl  and  a  black 
robe.  In  London  — 

"  You  will  anger  me,  Roger,"  cried  Walter  in  sudden 
heat,  "  if  you  speak  thus  of  Nellie  Roe  and  Nur  Mahal 
in  the  same  breath." 

"  Ecod,  you  flare  up  in  the  twinkling  of  a  quart  pot, 
[127] 


The  Great  Mogul 

the  sheer  name  of  which  gives  me  a  thirst.  What  the 
devil !  has  it  not  a  queer  semblance  to  magic,  to  say  the 
least?" 

Mowbray  grudgingly  admitted  so  much,  but  their 
discussion  was  interrupted  by  the  arrival  of  a  messenger 
who,  on  behalf  of  Sher  Afghan,  apologized  very  hand 
somely  for  his  master's  apparent  rudeness  in  leaving 
them  so  hastily  at  the  palace,  and  invited  them  to  the 
wedding  ceremony  that  night  at  the  residence  of  the 
Diwan. 

"  Here  is  a  spark  in  a  hurry  to  light  a  bonfire,"  cried 
Roger  when  he  disentangled  the  request  from  a  maze 
of  compliments. 

'  'Twas  the  Emperor's  command,"  said  Mowbray, 
dubiously.  "I  suppose  we  must  go.  He  befriended 
us  greatly,  though  I  hold  it  the  wiser  thing  to  send  a 
civil  excuse." 

He  rose  to  bid  their  servants  prepare  their  best  attire, 
and  Roger  eyed  him  with  a  smile. 

"  Aye,  aye,"  he  murmured  to  himself.  "  Everything 
goes  the  same  old  gait,  as  the  man  said  when  he  tried 
a  second  wife.  Here  we  are,  off  to  the  feasting.  Thank 
the  Lord!  if  there  be  fighting  to  follow  I  shall  not  be 
snared  this  time  like  an  owl  in  daylight." 

Indeed,  the  first  visible  indications  of  any  unusual 
event  in  progress,  when  they  crossed  the  bridge  of  boats 
before  gaining  the  pavilion  in  the  Garden  of  Heart's 
Delight,  savored  far  more  of  a  campaign  than  of  a 
wedding.  There  were  guards  there,  mounted  and  on 
foot,  who  challenged  all  comers.  The  Englishmen  had 
[128] 


The  Great  Mogul 

taken  the  precaution  to  detain  Sher  Afghan's  messenger, 
and  he  was  useful  now  in  preserving  them  from  ques 
tioning  and  delay.  Clearly,  the  Persian  warrior  obeyed 
his  master's  behests  to  the  letter.  He  not  only  knew  the 
importance  of  speedy  fulfilment  of  an  order,  but  he  did 
not  disdain  to  use  all  requisite  means  to  carry  it  out. 

Outside  the  gates  stood  a  troop  of  horse,  the  stalwart 
sowars  being  either  Rajputs  or  Punjabi  Mahomedans, 
as  both  of  these  warrior  races  found  favor  at  the  court 
of  Akbar.  The  transient  gleams  of  flitting  lanterns  fell 
on  their  accouterments,  and  revealed  the  presence  of 
several  litters,  destined,  the  young  men  thought,  for 
the  comfortable  conveyance  of  Nur  Mahal  and  her 
attendant  women  to  the  bridegroom's  far-off  domain  at 
Burdwan. 

Within  the  peaceful  garden  a  different  spectacle 
presented  itself.  The  Diwan's  vast  household  had  used 
every  effort  to  make  a  brave  display  notwithstanding 
the  short  notice  given.  A  myriad  little  lamps  festooned 
the  trees  or  bordered  the  ornamental  waters  and  flower 
beds,  whilst  the  main  avenue  from  the  gate  to  the  house 
was  brightened  by  Chinese  lanterns  and  carpeted  with 
rose  leaves. 

The  guests  were  conducted,  by  a  new  way,  to  yet 
another  portion  of  the  magnificent  garden,  and  here 
they  were  suddenly  introduced  to  a  spectacle  which 
held  them  spellbound  for  a  little  while. 

In  the  midst  of  a  green  plot  was  an  artificial  lake, 
square,  and  protected  by  a  small  and  beautifully  carved 
white  marble  balustrade.  From  each  side  ran  a  cause- 
[129] 


The  Great  Mogul 

way  to  a  circular  island  in  the  center,  its  surface  almost 
wholly  occupied  by  an  exquisite  marble  baraduri,  or 
summer-house.  The  delicate  fantasy  of  the  structure 
might  have  been  designed  by  some  Florentine  artist. 
Inlaid  with  jasper,  carnelian  and  agate,  it  rose  with 
superb  grace  from  the  setting  of  the  dreamy  lake,  whilst 
the  causeways  of  dark  red  sandstone  enhanced  its 
pearl-like  sheen  in  the  rays  of  the  innumerable  rows  of 
tiny  oil  lamps  which  ran  along  every  cornice  and  be 
decked  each  tier  of  the  plinth. 

Fountains  played  in  the  lake  itself,  and  the  shim 
mering  waters  reflected  now  the  starry  gleams  of  the 
lights,  and  again  the  solemn  shadows  of  a  row  of  tall 
cypress  trees,  standing  in  stately  order  in  the  back 
ground  and  silhouetted  against  the  unimaginable  blue 
of  an  Eastern  sky  by  night. 

In  the  baraduri  a  band  of  native  musicians  were 
squatted  on  a  rich  carpet.  They  made  a  deafening 
row  with  sitar  and  daf-thakri,  murchang  and  mirdang, 
instruments  with  sounds  as  barbarous  as  their  names, 
but  capable,  perhaps,  of  soul-stirring  music  to  ears 
tuned  to  their  torture.  Near  them,  covered  with  heavy 
cloaks,  sat  a  bevy  of  nautch-girls,  who,  when  the  mar 
ried  pair  had  set  forth  on  their  first  march,  would  be 
summoned  to  the  warmer  rooms  inside  the  mansion, 
to  dance  there  and  sing  their  love  songs  until  dawn. 

Between  the  lake  and  the  house  stood  a  mighty 

elephant,  eleven   feet   high   at  least.     His   enormous 

proportions  were  magnified  by  a  great  silver  howdah 

with  roof  and  curtains,  and  by  the  long  trappings  of 

[130] 


The  Great  Mogul 

scarlet  cloth,  embroidered  with  gold  thread,  which 
swept  down  his  massive  flanks  nearly  to  the  ground. 

That  this  fine  brute  was  to  provide  the  triumphal  car 
for  Sher  Afghan  and  his  wife  was  evident,  when,  in  a 
covered  court  beyond,  Mowbray  and  Sainton  saw  the 
Diwan  and  Sher  Afghan  entertaining  a  number  of 
native  gentlemen.  Active  servants,  clad  solely  in  white, 
threw  garlands  of  jasmine  round  the  neck  of  each  guest 
or  offered  golden  salvers  of  pan  supari,  the  savory 
betel  leaf  so  dear  to  Eastern  taste.  There  was  expect 
ancy  in  the  air.  The  bride  would  soon  come  forth  and 
pass  forever  from  the  enchanted  garden. 

Itimad-ud-Daula  received  them  with  grave  courtesy, 
and  Sher  Afghan,  who  seemed  in  no  wise  disturbed  by 
the  known  fact  that  Nur  Mahal  hated  the  sight  of  him, 
made  his  English  friends  welcome. 

"  I  have  met  few  of  your  nation,"  he  said  to  Mowbray, 
"  but  my  heart  has  never  gone  out  to  a  stranger  as  to 
you  and  your  brother.  You  shall  not  suffer  because 
I  leave  Agra.  I  have  spoken  to  the  Diwan  concerning 
your  affairs.  Rest  content  for  a  little  while.  When 
matters  are  settled  over  there — "  and  he  nodded 
scornfully  towards  the  palace  —  "he  will  bring  you 
forward  again.  You  may  be  obliged  to  wait  a  month 
or  two  for  your  money.  The  Diwan  will  advise  you 
of  this,  and  you  may  trust  him.  If  it  be  so,  come  to 
me  at  Burdwan,  and  I  shall  show  you  how  to  kill  a 
tiger." 

"  How  little  can  a  man  see  into  the  future,"  confided 
Walter  to  Sainton  when  the  Persian  was  called  away. 
[131] 


The  Great  Mogul 

"  You  will  perceive,  Roger,  that  we  should  have  missed 
a  good  deal  had  we  not  come  hither  to-night." 

"  He  talks  of  the  killing  of  tigers,  but  I  vow  he  will 
first  have  the  taming  of  one,"  said  Roger.  "Here 
comes  the  bride.  Saw  you  ever  such  a  spitfire  ?  Soul 
of  my  body,  I'd  liefer  charge  a  row  of  spears  than  climb 
into  yon  silver  turret  by  her  side.  Yet  Sher  Afghan  is 
a  proper  man,  a  finer  fellow  by  half  than  the  spleenish 
Jahangir ! " 

"  Perchance  she  cares  little  for  either,  but  would  sell 
her  happiness  for  a  diadem." 

"  She  looks  a  quean  of  that  sort.  I  ken  nowt  of  love, 
such  as  folk  make  songs  about,  but  my  mother  always 
telt  me  never  to  wed  a  lass  for  a  dowry.  She  said  it 
bred  a  heap  of  mischief  and  few  fine  bairns." 

Walter  laughed,  discreetly  enough,  but,  at  that  in 
stant,  Nur  Mahal,  who  had  imperiously  flung  aside  her 
veil  and  was  preparing  to  mount  into  the  howdah  on 
the  kneeling  elephant,  looked  straight  at  him. 

Her  face  was  deathly  pale,  and  her  lustrous  eyes 
shone  with  a  strange  light.  Pain  struggled  with  anger 
in  her  glance.  She  was  defiant  yet  humiliated,  and  she 
shrank  from  the  proffered  hand  of  her  husband  as 
though  his  touch  would  defile  her.  When  her  gaze 
fell  on  Mowbray  she  singled  him  out  for  a  specially 
scornful  arching  of  her  eyebrows  and  contemptuous 
drooping  of  her  beautiful  lips.  Considering  that  he 
had  seen  her  that  day  for  the  first  time,  and  had  scarce 
exchanged  a  dozen  words  with  her,  he  was  taken  aback 
by  her  evident  disdain. 

[132] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Somehow,  though  no  word  was  spoken,  those  won 
derful  eyes  said  to  him:  — 

"  You,  too,  have  come  to  witness  my  degradation  — 
you,  in  whom  I  thought  I  had  found  a  new  lover." 

For  some  reason,  unknown  even  to  himself,  he  bowed 
sorrowfully.  When  he  lifted  his  head  again,  Sher 
Afghan  was  seated  beside  his  unwilling  spouse,  a  gor 
geously-clad  mahout  was  prodding  the  elephant's  head 
with  a  steel  ankus,  and  the  stately  animal  was  marching 
off  into  the  shadow  of  the  cypresses,  his  path  being 
marked  by  two  winding  rows  of  lanterns. 

Feeling  themselves  slightly  out  of  place  among  the 
nawdbs,  omrahs,  and  other  grandees  who  formed  the 
Diwan's  guests,  the  Englishmen  soon  took  their  leave. 
Their  servants,  thinking  the  sahibs  would  sit  long  at  the 
feast,  had  gone  off  to  revel  with  the  rest  of  their  kind, 
and  there  was  a  wearisome  delay  whilst  one  guard 
after  another  was  despatched  to  search  for  them,  the 
truth  being  that  each  chuprassi  seized  the  opportunity 
himself  to  indulge  in  libation  and  eat  the  sweetmeats 
provided  with  lavish  hand  for  the  household,  before  he 
fulfilled  his  quest. 

The  wedding  cortege  had  gone,  the  night  was  dark 
and  cold,  and  the  patience  of  the  belated  pair  was  fast 
ebbing,  when  a  hubbub  of  shouting  and  firing,  mixed 
with  the  screams  of  women  and  the  neighing  of  horses 
at  some  distance,  rudely  disturbed  the  brooding  silence. 

"Gad!"  roared  Sainton,  "I  thought  there  would  be 
a  fight." 

"The  Prince  has  attacked  the  escort.  He  means  to 
[133] 


The  Great  Mogul 

slay  Sher  Afghan  and  carry  off  the  girl.  What  can  we 
do  ?  "  cried  Walter. 

"Bide  where  we  are.  Here  comes  news  if  I  be  not 
mistaken." 

Indeed,  the  loud  trumpeting  of  an  elephant,  and  the 
shaking  of  the  earth  under  his  mighty  rush,  showed 
that  not  only  had  the  Persian's  force  been  overcome 
but  he  was  in  full  retreat.  The  excited  servants  of  the 
Diwan  —  those  who  were  left  at  the  entrance  —  barred 
the  gate  and  left  the  Englishmen  standing  outside. 
But  there  was  a  lamp  there,  and  the  row  of  little  lights 
on  top  of  the  wall  lit  up  the  roadway  sufficiently  to 
reveal  the  approach  of  the  elephant.  He  came  with 
the  speed  of  a  galloping  horse,  his  trappings  flying  in 
wild  disorder  and  his  trunk  uplifted  in  terror.  Behind 
him  raced  a  mob  of  armed  men,  but,  on  his  left  side, 
managing  a  fine  Arab  with  consummate  skill,  and  cut 
ting  and  thrusting  madly  at  Sher  Afghan,  rode  Prince 
Jahangir.  The  Persian,  leaning  well  out  of  the  how- 
dah,  was  endeavoring  with  equal  fury  to  kill  or  maim 
his  royal  rival,  but  the  swaying  strides  of  the  elephant, 
and  the  difference  in  height  between  the  huge  brute  and 
the  horse,  made  it  difficult  if  not  impossible  for  either 
combatant  to  injure  the  other. 

Yet  Sher  Afghan's  face  was  bleeding,  and  Jahangir's 
clothes  were  torn.  Evidently  there  had  been  a  sharp 
tussle  ere  the  mahout  turned  his  obedient  monster 
towards  the  Diwan's  residence. 

Behind  Sher  Afghan,  Mowbray  saw  the  white,  dis 
traught  face  of  Nur  Mahal.  He  fancied,  though  the 
[1341 


And  that  was  the  manner  in  which  Nur  Mahal  on  her  wedding 
night  came  back  to  the  Garden  of  Heart's  Delight. 


The  Great  Mogul 

whole  incident  was  fleeting  as  a  dream,  that  she  held 
a  dagger  in  her  right  hand,  but  his  attention  was 
distracted  by  Roger  shouting:  — 

"  I  can  see  nowt  for  it  but  to  cleave  Jahangir  in  two 
as  he  passes." 

And  cloven  the  Prince  assuredly  would  have  been, 
for  Sainton  had  drawn  his  long,  straight  sword,  had  not 
the  mahout  suddenly  wheeled  the  elephant  against  the 
gate,  upsetting  the  snorting  Arab  by  the  maneuver. 
Jahangir  was  thrown,  almost  at  Mowbray's  feet.  The 
elephant  charged  the  massive  doors  head  downwards, 
and  they  were  torn  from  their  hinges  as  if  they  were 
paper  screens.  The  arch  collapsed,  there  was  a  crash 
of  falling  masonry  and  rent  wood-work,  and  the  great 
brute  himself,  stunned  by  the  shock,  fell  to  his  knees. 

And  that  was  the  manner  in  which  Nur  Mahal,  on 
her  wedding  night,  came  back  to  the  Garden  of  Heart's 
Delight. 


[135] 


CHAPTER  IX 

"  Why  didst  thou  not  smite  him  to  the  ground  and  I  would 
have  given  thee  ten  shekels  of  silver  ?" 

2  Samuel  xviii.   11. 

JAHANGIR  was  on  his  feet  instantly.  Sher  Afghan 
should  not  escape  him  now  unless  the  gods  fought 
against  him. 

"To  me!"  he  yelled.  "Spare  not!  Every  man 
shall  have  a  golden  tanq! "  * 

The  elephant  struggled  to  rise,  but  failed.  He  was 
dazed  by  his  terrific  impact  against  the  solid  gateway. 
Sher  Afghan  leaped  from  the  howdah  and  rushed 
joyously  to  meet  his  frenzied  antagonist.  Perhaps  the 
fate  of  India  would  have  been  settled  then  and  there 
for  many  a  year  had  not  the  mob  of  horsemen,  unable 
to  stay  their  disorderly  pursuit,  swept  between  the 
rivals.  Many  of  the  sowars  were  thrown  by  crashing 
into  the  immovable  bulk  of  the  squealing  beast  in  the 
roadway:  most  of  the  others  either  reined  in,  expect 
ing  to  encounter  a  fresh  foe,  or  were  carried  past  the 
gate. 

Walter,  in  whom  the  fire  of  battle  had  extinguished 
the  dictates  of  prudence,  whipped  out  his  sword,  faced 

*  Collar  or  circlet. 
[136] 


The  Great  Mogul 

the  enraged  Prince,  and  engaged  him  in  rapid  play. 
The  curved  scimitar  of  the  East  had  no  chance  against 
the  straight  English  blade,  wielded  as  it  was  by  one 
versed  in  the  art  of  European  swordsmanship.  Jahan- 
gir  was  disarmed,  his  wrist  nearly  broken  when  he  would 
have  drawn  a  dagger,  and  Mowbray,  closing  fearlessly, 
pinned  him  against  the  base  of  the  wall.  His  infuriated 
adversary  was  no  puny  youth,  but  Walter  was  now  at 
his  best.  He  tripped  Jahangir,  got  him  down,  and 
gripped  him  by  the  throat,  saying :  — 

"Yield,  fool,  and  lie  quiet.  If  Sher  Afghan  finds 
thee  he  will  slay  thee  without  mercy." 

In  the  road  a  remarkable  change  had  taken  place. 
The  elephant's  assault  had  dislodged  a  long  and  heavy 
iron  bar  which  served  to  prop  the  door  from  within. 
Sainton,  alert  as  a  fox  in  an  emergency,  saw  it  lying 
amidst  the  ruins.  Any  ordinary  man  would  find  it  a 
difficult  thing  to  lift,  but  Roger,  sheathing  his  sword, 
picked  it  up  and  used  it  with  both  hands  as  a  quarter 
staff.  He  leaped  back  into  the  melee  and  made  on 
slaught  with  this  fearsome  weapon  on  men  and  horses 
alike.  In  the  press,  the  Prince's  retainers  could  not 
use  their  arrows,  and  their  cumbrous  matchlocks,  once 
discharged,  could  not  be  reloaded  readily.  As  for 
their  swords  and  short  lances,  of  what  avail  were  such 
bodkins  against  this  raging  giant,  mowing  down  all 
comers  with  a  ten-foot  bar  of  iron  ?  Who  could  with 
stand  him  ?  Those  who  escaped  him  fled,  and  the 
clash  of  steel  beyond  the  circle  of  light  told  that  Sher 
Afghan's  followers,  though  dispersed  by  the  first  unex- 
[137] 


The  Great  Mogul 

pected  charge,  had  rallied  and  were  coming  to  the 
assistance  of  their  chief. 

Sainton,  who  thoroughly  enjoyed  the  fight,  ceased 
his  exertions  when  he  saw  Sher  Afghan  helping  Nur 
Mahal  to  alight  from  the  howdah.  A  crowd  of  guests 
and  armed  vassals,  attracted  by  the  noise  of  the  con 
flict,  had  run  from  the  house,  and  the  obedience  ren 
dered  to  the  Persian's  orders  by  a  fresh  batch  of  horse 
men  advancing  out  of  the  darkness  showed  that  the 
assailants  had  been  completely  routed. 

But  some  remained.  Six  horses  and  more  than 
twenty  men  were  prone  in  the  dust,  and  few  of  them 
moved,  for  that  terrible  bar  had  touched  naught  that  it 
did  not  break.  The  fallen  elephant  blocked  the  gate 
and  the  big  Yorkshireman  held  the  road.  None  could 
come  out  from  the  garden  save  by  a  wicket,  and  neither 
friend  nor  foe  dared  to  approach  within  striking  dis 
tance  of  Roger. 

Sher  Afghan,  who  had  not  earned  his  name,  "  Slayer 
of  Lions,"  by  bragging,  glanced  at  the  tumbled  heap 
which  surrounded  Sainton  and  cried :  — 

"May  Allah  bear  witness  this  night  that  thou  hast 
saved  my  life,  friend  from  beyond  the  seas.  I  did  well 
to  help  thee,  and  nobly  hast  thou  repaid  my  service. 
But  where  is  thy  brother?  I  trust  he  has  come  to  no 
harm." 

"When  last  I  saw  him  he  was  instructing  Prince 
Jahangir  in  the  art  of  fence,"  said  Roger,  stooping  to 
recover  his  hat  which  had  fallen. 

"  Ha,  sayst  thou  ?  Would  that  I  had  given  the 
[138] 


The  Great  Mogul 

lesson  in  his  stead !     Search  for  him,  I  pray  you,  whilst 
I  conduct  this  lady  to  her  father." 

Nur  Mahal,  who  stood  near,  seemed  to  be  in  a 
somewhat  subdued  mood.  There  was  a  new  note  in 
her  voice  as  she  murmured :  — 

"  Heed  me  not,  my  Lord,  but  look  for  the  stranger. 
My  heart  misgives  me  as  to  his  fate." 

Sher  Afghan  gave  her  a  quick  glance,  clearing  his 
eyes  in  wonderment.  Before  he  could  reply  the  girl 
darted  forward. 

"  See,  here  he  comes,  and  with  him  a  prisoner.  For 
my  sake,  if  for  none  other,  let  there  be  no  further 
bloodshed ! " 

The  appeal  was  timely.  Walter,  holding  Jahangir, 
whom  he  had  purposely  kept  in  the  background  until 
the  turmoil  had  subsided,  now  advanced.  But  the 
spirit  of  the  combat  had  not  wholly  left  him.  When 
Sher  Afghan  sprang  forward,  eager  to  renew  a  duel 
interrupted  by  the  downfall  of  the  elephant,  his  sword 
barred  the  way. 

"Not  so,"  he  cried  determinedly.  "The  Prince  is 
unarmed  and  my  hostage.  Moreover,  I  cannot  see 
why  two  such  gallant  gentlemen  should  fight  over  a 
worthless  woman.  Whilst  you  were  defending  her  and 
yourself,  Sher  Afghan,  her  dagger  was  raised  to  strike 
you  dead." 

The  Persian  stood  as  though  he  had  been  stabbed 
indeed.  He  bent  a  piteous  glance  on  his  wife. 

"Is  it  true,"  he  asked  brokenly,  "that  you  would 
have  done  this  thing  ? " 

[139]         . 


She  shrank  from  him. 

"  You  forced  me  to  wed  you,"  she  protested.  "  I  did 
not  love  you." 

Plucking  a  dagger  from  his  belt  he  offered  it  to 
her. 

"  I  dreamed  to  conquer  the  fickle  heart  of  a  woman," 
he  said.  "If  you  were  minded  to  end  your  woes  by 
my  death,  here  is  my  unprotected  breast.  Kill  me! 
It  is  my  desire.  Better  that  than  an  assassin's  blow  at 
the  hands  of  the  woman  I  love." 

She  burst  into  a  passion  of  tears  and  fell  to  her 
knees. 

"Forgive  me,  my  Lord,"  she  sobbed;  and  her  grief 
was  music  in  Sher  Afghan's  ears.  If,  indeed,  his  wife 
regretted  her  attitude  he  could  afford  to  be  magnani 
mous.  Throwing  sword  and  dagger  to  the  ground  he 
bowed  to  Jahangir. 

"Your  Highness  has  been  misled  by  idle  tongues,"  he 
said.  "Tidings  of  this  brawl  will  reach  the  Emperor 
as  fast  as  men  can  ride.  Let  you  and  me  hasten  to 
his  presence  and  together  seek  his  clemency." 

It  was  a  proposal  which  could  only  emanate  from  a 
chivalrous  soul,  but  Jahangir  was  too  enraged  by  his 
defeat,  too  embittered  by  Nur  Mahal's  apparent  sub 
mission,  to  avail  himself  of  it. 

"I  neither  plead  nor  make  excuse,"  he  said.  "Go 
you  in  peace  with  your  bride.  I  call  Allah  to  witness 
that  I  have  been  misled  by  none  save  Nur  Mahal 
herself.  My  followers  have  fled,  though  I  am  glad  to 
see  some  of  the  hare-livered  dogs  cumber  the  ground. 
[140] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Give  me  a  horse  and  I  shall  ride  alone,  if  your  foreign 
ally  grants  my  liberty." 

The  lowering  anger  in  his  closely  set  eyes,  the  quiv 
ering  lips  which  scarce  could  form  the  -words,  showed 
that  Jahangir  was  not  only  keenly  resentful  of  his  plight 
but  that  he  scorned  Nur  Mahal  for  her  meekness.  The 
appearance  of  the  Diwan,  agitated  and  faltering  in  his 
steps,  put  an  end  to  a  scene  which  at  any  moment  might 
have  assumed  a  new  phase  of  violence.  The  aged 
statesman,  when  his  first  alarm  was  sped,  thought  more 
of  the  morrow  than  of  the  present  excitement.  He 
bade  Sher  Afghan  undertake  the  interrupted  journey 
in  a  litter  as  soon  as  his  wounds  were  bound,  and  he 
despatched  Jahangir  to  the  fort  with  a  strong  guard  of 
his  own  servants. 

By  this  time  the  dazed  elephant  had  yielded  to  the 
curses  and  endearments  of  the  mahout.  He  rose 
ponderously,  and  marched  across  the  ruins  of  the  gate 
to  his  stable. 

For  some  reason  the  Diwan  would  not  allow  Mow- 
bray  and  Sainton  to  return  to  the  caravansary.  He 
may  Jiave  feared  for  their  safety,  or  perhaps  he  found 
comfort  in  the  thought  that  Roger,  mighty  man  of  war, 
slept  under  his  roof. 

Before  setting  out  a  second  time  Sher  Afghan  came 
to  the  chamber  allotted  to  them.  He  threw  around 
Roger's  neck  a  magnificent  gold  chain  studded  with 
turquoises. 

"Let  me  gild  the  bond  of  steel  which  rivets  our 
friendship,"  he  said. 

[141] 


The  Great  Mogul 

To  Walter  he  handed  a  dagger,  with  a  handle  so 
encrusted  with  diamonds  that  it  blazed  in  the  light  of 
a  lamp  like  a  single  huge  stone. 

"  It  is  worthy  of  the  hand  of  my  friend  and  the  heart 
of  my  enemy,"  he  cried,  nor  would  he  harken  to  their 
protests,  but  hurried  away  to  the  waiting  litter  and  Nur 
Mahal. 

"How  read  you  the  riddle  of  this  night's  doings?" 
asked  Roger,  when  they  were  alone  once  more. 

"There  is  no  riddle.  'Tis  nothing  new  in  history 
for  a  woman  to  plot  for  a  throne." 

"  But  the  wench  blew  hot  and  cold.  One  minute  she 
was  for  striking  her  husband  dead  and  the  next  she 
was  tame  as  a  pet  lamb." 

"  There  you  have  me.  I  am  only  sorry  that  a  brave 
man  like  Sher  Afghan  should  be  enamored  of  such  a 
siren." 

"By  the  cross  of  Osmotherley,  Walter,  I  came  to 
think  I  ken  more  than  you  of  the  ways  of  women. 
Now,  mark  me,  she  is  a  hoyden  of  some  spirit.  When 
the  Prince  would  have  reived  her  she  was  willing 
enough,  and  tempted  to  aid  him  withal.  But  when  the 
fight  started,  she  hung  back,  like  a  doe  watching  two 
contending  stags.  Her  husband  was  the  better  man 
and  the  greater  gentleman,  and  he  did  more  to  win  her  by 
a  five  minutes'  contention  than  by  a  month's  wooing." 

"You  are  right,  Roger,  but  you  had  most  to  say  in 
that  respect.     Now,  let  us  rest.     Jahangir  was  no  mean 
antagonist.     He  struggled  like  a  bull  when  I  had  him 
on  the  ground.     I  am  weary." 
[142] 


The  Great  Mogul 

They  slept  late,  and,  when  they  had  dressed  and 
eaten,  were  at  a  loss  whether  to  go  or  stay,  as  the  Diwan 
had  hastened  to  the  palace  soon  after  daybreak.  But 
their  doubts  were  quickly  resolved.  A  mounted  mes 
senger  from  the  Diwan  bade  them  bring  their  packs 
with  all  speed  to  the  fort.  The  Emperor  had  laughed 
when  told  that  his  heir  was  lying  abed  with  sore  bones, 
and  gave  imperative  orders  that  the  bazaar  should  take 
place  as  arranged. 

The  man  told  them  that  the  fair  was  the  Khus-roz, 
or  "  Day  of  Pleasure,"  and  the  scene  in  the  garden  of 
the  zenana,  when  Mowbray  and  Sainton  had  hurried 
their  train  thither,  showed  that  the  festival  was  not 
misnamed.  Not  only  the  ladies  of  the  court,  but  the 
wives  and  daughters  of  the  chief  nobles,  occupied  the 
stalls,  and,  while  Walter  was  busily  superintending  the 
unpacking  of  his  bales,  he  heard  the  Emperor  himself 
chaffering  like  an  old  wife  about  the  value  of  a  penny. 

He  was  bargaining  shrewdly  with  a  beautiful  Kash 
miri,  and  receiving  as  good  as  he  gave. 

"What  do  you  know  of  merchandise?"  she  cried. 
"  You  may  be  a  good  king,  but  certainly  you  are  a  poor 
trader." 

"  And  you  are  selling  inferior  silk  by  your  pretty  face, 
just  as  a  fine  rind  may  cover  a  bad  apple,"  he  retorted. 

"If  your  Majesty  can  only  admire  my  face,"  said 
she,  "I  fear  you  must  go  where  you  will  be  better 
served." 

"  Ohe,  here  is  a  prude !     Come,  accept  my  price  and 
let  me  take  my  compliments  elsewhere." 
[143] 


The  Great  Mogul 

"And  what  shall  I  say  when  I  render  short  account 
to  the  Sultana?" 

"Tell  her  that  the  King  thought  you  ill-looking,  so 
he  showed  you  no  favor." 

"Your  Majesty  is  reputed  a  better  judge  of  women's 
nature.  Then,  indeed,  the  Sultana  would  regard  me 
curiously." 

"  Oh,  go  to !  You  are  vain  as  a  peacock.  Here,  not 
a  pice  more!" 

He  threw  down  some  copper  coins,  and  affected  to 
drop  a  number  of  gold  pieces  by  accident.  The  lady 
promptly  covered  them  with  a  fold  of  her  sari,  and 
Akbar  strolled  away  to  another  stall.  Among  the 
money  she  found  a  rare  pearl,  and  the  gift  of  a  jewel 
was  a  signal  sign  of  royal  favor. 

"They  tell  me  an  elephant  broke  loose  outside  the 
Diwan's  house  last  night,"  said  Akbar,  stopping  in 
front  of  Walter  and  eying  him  keenly. 

"  For  a  little  while  I  fancied  it  was  a  whole  menagerie, 
your  Majesty,"  was  the  quick  answer. 

"So.  And  this  other  elephant,  the  Hathi-sahib, 
made  a  pen  for  the  beasts  ?  " 

"Assuredly  they  found  him  occupation  for  a  time." 

"'Tis  well.  I  am  sorry  I  did  not  see  him  at 
work.  Meanwhile,  you  shall  not  lose  trade  because 
young  blood  grows  hot.  What  is  the  value  of  your 
wares  ?  " 

"A  lakh  and  a  half,  your  Majesty." 

"Bones  of  my  father!    They  must  have  told  you 
that  'Akbar'  meant  'a  mint'  in  your  language." 
[144] 


"  The  meaning  of  your  Majesty's  name  is  known  far 
beyond  the  confines  of  your  kingdom." 

"  Ha !  Thy  tongue  is  glib !  And  what  is  my  repute 
with  your  King  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  told  that  he  regards  your  Majesty  with 
great  respect,  which  is  saying  much,  as  he  is  held  by 
many  to  be  a  very  Solomon." 

"  Aye,  the  wisest  fool  in  Christendom,"  broke  in 
Sainton,  in  English. 

Mowbray  smiled  and  Akbar  cried  eagerly :  — 

"  What  sayeth  the  Hathi  ?  " 

The  translation,  which  Walter  rendered  accurately, 
made  him  laugh  heartily. 

"  I  doubt  not  thou  hast  an  apt  phrase  to  describe  me 
when  my  back  is  turned,"  he  said  to  Roger. 

"  If  your  Majesty  leaves  behind  you  the  lakh  and  a 
half  demanded  by  my  partner  I  shall  at  least  say  that 
which  is  true." 

"And  what  will  it  be?" 

"  That  none  but  a  royal  bird  could  cast  such  feathers." 

"Bismillah!  Aught  but  that!  The  four  winds 
would  blow  hither  every  knave  in  India,  for  they  will 
read  it  that  none  but  a  royal  goose  could  lay  such 

eggs-" 

Of  course  the  imperial  quip  was  much  applauded  by 
those  who  stood  near,  and  Akbar  was  so  pleased  with 
his  own  wit  that  he  called  for  pen  and  paper  and  com 
manded  an  attendant  to  write  an  order  on  the  Treasury 
for  the  amount  named,  for,  strange  to  say,  this  far- 
seeing  and  intelligent  monarch  was  quite  illiterate.  He 
[145] 


The  Great  Mogul 

could  scarcely  read,  and  his  signature  was  a  mere 
scrawl.  Nevertheless,  his  hieroglyphics  covered,  in  this 
instance,  a  considerable  sum,  its  English  equivalent 
being  .£15,000.  Seeing  that  the  cost  and  transport  of 
their  goods  amounted  to  only  one-third  of  the  sale 
price,  both  Mowbray  and  Sainton  had  the  best  of 
reasons  to  rejoice  at  this  rapid  change  in  their  fortunes. 

But  Akbar  knew  the  value  of  money  as  well  as  the 
poorest  of  his  subjects.  Turning  to  a  corpulent  nawab 
who  had  laughed  loudest  at  his  joke,  he  said:  — 

"  Now,  Agah  Khan,  thou  shalt  see  that  I  am  as  ready 
a  seller  as  a  buyer.  Look  at  this  roll  of  Persian  silk. 
Think  of  the  joy  it  will  cause  in  thy  household.  Is  it 
not  cheap  at  two  hundred  gold  mohurs,  or  shall  we  say 
two-fifty,  as  thou  wouldst  not  care  to  rob  a  man  who 
scarce  knew  the  value  of  his  commodities." 

Agah  Khan,  not  at  all  elated  by  this  twist  of  the 
royal  humor,  hastened  to  say  that  two  hundred  and 
fifty  was  the  true  price,  at  which  figure  he  would  cer 
tainly  purchase  it.  He  knew  Akbar.  Had  he  hesi 
tated  the  figure  would  have  risen  by  hundreds  a  minute. 

"Nay,  be  not  so  shy,  Nur-ud-din,"  called  out  the 
Emperor  after  one  who  affected  an  interest  in  another 
stall.  "  Here  be  spices  of  Gondar  that  shall  make  thee 
eat  until  the  mirror  reveals  one  twice  thy  size.  What 
shall  it  be?" 

"Fifty,  O  King  of  Kings,"  was  the  quick  response. 

"Fifty!  When  each  grain  doth  season  a  meal!  A 
hundred  at  the  least!" 

"  Be  it  so,  shadow  of  Allah  on  earth ! "  said  Nur-ud- 
[146] 


The  Great  Mogul 

din;  yet  he  looked  so  dismal,  for  he  was  a  reputed 
skinflint,  that  Akbar  smiled  grimly,  and  there  was 
discreet  mirth  even  among  those  who  dreaded  their  own 
dealing  with  this  masterful  salesman. 

"Gad!"  whispered  Sainton  to  Walter,  "I  begin  to 
catch  the  drift  of  the  King's  bargain.  He  hath  a  nice 
wit." 

In  half  an  hour  Akbar  had  sold  three  fourths  of 
their  stock  and  retained  the  best  quarter  for  nothing. 
They,  all  aglow  with  pleasure  at  this  successful  close 
of  their  venture,  watched  the  proceedings  in  patience 
until  the  Emperor  approached  them  again. 

"  It  grieves  me  that  affairs  in  the  Dekkan  will  detain 
me  to-day,"  he  said,  looking  fixedly  at  Walter.  "  Visit 
the  Treasury  to-morrow,  come  hither  at  the  hour  fixed 
for  this  evening,  and  then  journey  with  all  speed  and 
good  fortune  back  to  Surat." 

Now,  Walter  read  a  hint  into  the  words.  He  bowed 
deeply,  assuring  the  Emperor  that  he  would  obey  his 
commands  to  the  letter.  Then,  Akbar  having  gone, 
he  and  Roger  went  on  their  way  with  light  hearts. 

In  a  land  where  nitrigue  was  rife,  the  signal  favor 
shown  by  the  Emperor  to  the  two  strangers  was  in 
every  man's  mouth.  This  was  clear  from  the  respect 
paid  to  them  as  they  rode  forth  from  the  palace.  Each 
menial  salaamed,  and  officials  who  had  surveyed  them 
with  hauteur  during  their  first  visit  now  rendered 
obsequious  attention. 

They  were  yet  some  little  distance  from  the  bazaar 
when  two  richly  clad  nobles,  mounted  on  fine  Turko- 
[147] 


The  Great  Mogul 

man  Arabs,  overtook  them,  drew  rein  and  entered  into 
conversation. 

At  first,  Walter  answered  their  courteous  inquiries 
unguardedly,  but  a  question  anent  the  previous  night's 
escapade  revealed  a  hidden  motive.  He  described  the 
affair  jestingly,  robbing  it  of  serious  import. 

"Nay,  friend,"  said  one,  the  elder  of  the  pair,  "we 
heard  Akbar's  words.  Prince  Jahangir,  a  profligate 
and  a  drunkard,  hath  grieved  him  by  his  excesses. 
Had  the  edge  of  thy  sword  fallen  on  Jahangir's  neck, 
instead  of  the  flat  blade  on  his  wrist,  there  would  have 
been  little  harm  done." 

"A  bold  speech  from  one  whom  I  know  not." 

"Would  that  a  bold  action  by  one  whom  we  know 
not  had  rid  the  land  of  a  pest!" 

Amazed  and  somewhat  disturbed  by  this  outspoken 
declaration,  Mowbray  wheeled  his  horse  squarely 
towards  the  speaker. 

"I  would  have  you  realize  that  my  companion  and 
I  are  traders.  We  have  no  concern  with  the  court 
beyond  the  sale  of  our  goods,"  he  said  sternly. 

"Traders  should  not  have  enemies  in  high  places." 

"We  have  none." 

"  Why,  then,  is  one  of  the  foreign  preachers  closeted 
with  Jahangir  since  the  ninth  hour?  Why  hath  this 
same  preacher  spread  the  rumor  in  the  bazaar  that  you 
are  spies,  emissaries  of  a  king  beyond  the  black  water 
who  is  sending  armed  ships  to  prey  on  our  territories  in 
the  west  ?  " 

Here  was  unpleasant  news,  indeed.  Mowbray  must 
[148] 


The  Great  Mogul 

have  looked  his  annoyance,  because  the  other  continued 
eagerly :  — 

"This  black  gown  hath  established  too  great  an 
influence  over  Jahangir.  Were  he  dead,  and  his 
brother  Khusrow  recognized  as  heir,  all  would  be  well, 
and  the  store  thou  hast  made  to-day  would  be  quad 
rupled." 

"To  whom  do  I  speak?" 

"I  fear  not  to  give  my  name.  I  am  Raja  Man 
Singh,  and  this  other  is  the  chief  of  Bikanir." 

"  Why  do  you  tell  me  these  things  ? "  said  Walter, 
sorely  troubled,  for  the  men  were  grandees  of  high 
position. 

"  Because,  in  God's  name,  if  Jahangir  comes  in  front 
of  thy  sword  again,  plunge  it  into  him." 

Roger,  who  gathered  the  drift  if  not  the  exact  signifi 
cance  of  the  talk,  broke  in  in  English :  — 

"  If  they're  athirst  for  Jahangir's  blood,  Walter,  bid 
them  slit  his  weazand  themselves." 

They  evidently  read  his  ejaculation  as  hostile  to  the 
Prince,  for  he  from  Bikanir  murmured :  — 

"Good!    The  Hathi  hath  trumpeted." 

Now,  Roger  did  not  like  the  nickname  given  him  by 
Akbar.  He  stretched  out  a  huge  fist  toward  the  Rajput 
and  roared :  — 

"  I  kill  only  in  fair  fight.  Beware  lest  the  slaying  be 
done  now,  when,  perchance,  we  may  win  not  only  the 
Emperor's  approval,  but  that  of  his  eldest  son." 

His  attitude  surprised  them,  but  they  showed  no  fear. 
Raja  Man  Singh  said  coldly:  — 
[149] 


The  Great  Mogul 

"I  have  spoken.  Many  hours  may  not  pass  before 
you  feel  that  my  words  were  not  uttered  without  cause." 

He  spurred  his  horse,  and  the  other  followed  him  in 
a  sharp  canter.  They  soon  vanished  in  the  distance. 

The  incident,  perplexing  though  it  was,  would  not 
liave  troubled  them  greatly  save  for  the  reference  to 
Dom  Geronimo.  Here  was  one  whose  rancor  was 
implacable,  his  spleen  being  probably  augmented  by 
their  presence  in  the  Mogul  capital  and  the  notable 
success  they  had  attained.  When  they  recalled  the 
Emperor's  advice  as  to  their  departure  they  saw  that 
there  were  dangerous  undercurrents  in  existence  which 
might  swamp  the  argosy  of  their  fortunes  if  they  did 
not  conduct  their  affairs  with  exceeding  discretion. 

Hence,  they  hailed  with  joy  the  invitation  from  the 
Diwan  to  make  his  house  their  own  during  further 
residence  in  Agra.  In  the  caravansary  they  were  sur 
rounded  by  strangers  who  might  be  in  anyone's  pay. 
In  the  Garden  of  Heart's  Delight  they  were,  at  least, 
under  the  protection  of  an  influential  minister,  whose 
abode  even  Prince  Jahangir  was  compelled  to  respect, 
else  he  would  not  have  resorted  to  the  ambuscade  of  the 
previous  night. 

But  the  blind  god,  having  tossed  them  towards  the 
smooth  haven  of  prosperity,  blew  them  back  into  a 
storm  with  malignant  caprice.  That  night,  the  Diwan 
died  suddenly,  poisoned  said  some,  while  others  held 
that  his  end  was  hastened  by  the  turmoil  attending 
Nur  Mahal's  marriage. 

Application  to  the  Treasury  for  payment  of  their 
[150] 


The  Great  Mogul 

order  was  futile.  They  were  assured,  civilly  enough, 
that  no  money  could  be  disbursed  until  a  new  Diwan 
was  appointed,  and,  when  they  kept  the  appointment 
fixed  by  Akbar,  they  were  told  that  the  Emperor,  over 
whelmed  with  grief  at  the  death  of  his  favorite  minister, 
added  to  the  news  of  the  illness  of  one  of  his  sons, 
Danial,  at  Burhampur,  was  secluded  in  his  private 
apartments. 

Day  after  day  they  waited,  devising  many  schemes 
to  secure  their  money  and  leave  a  city  they  would 
gladly  see  the  last  of.  They  lived  in  the  Diwan's  house. 
None  interfered  with  them,  and  the  place  itself  was  an 
earthly  Paradise  wherein  they  would  be  well  content  if 
other  matters  had  progressed  to  their  liking.  The 
warning  given  by  Raja  Man  Singh  had  no  justification 
in  fact.  Jahangir  had  apparently  forgotten  their  exist 
ence,  while  Dom  Geronimo  gave  no  sign  that  he  con 
cerned  himself  in  any  way  about  them. 

Walter  not  only  visited  the  palace  daily,  but  wrote 
letters,  none  of  which  received  an  answer.  At  last  the 
truth  could  no  longer  be  hidden.  Akbar,  who  had 
reigned  over  India  fifty-one  years,  was  stricken  down 
with  paralysis.  In  the  words  of  the  chronicler,  "His 
Majesty,  finding  that  his  last  moments  had  come, 
summoned  all  his  Omerahs  to  his  bedside.  Wistfully 
regarding  them,  he  asked  forgiveness  of  any  offense  he 
might  have  been  guilty  towards  any  of  them.  Then 
he  gave  them  a  sign  to  invest  his  son,  Jahangir,  with 
his  turban  and  robes,  and  to  gird  him  with  his  favorite 
simitar.  He  entreated  Jahangir  to  be  kind  to  the 
[151] 


The  Great  Mogul 

ladies  of  the  family,  to  discharge  all  his  (Akbar's) 
obligations,  and  never  to  neglect  or  forsake  old  friends 
and  dependents.  The  grandees  prostrated  themselves 
before  their  dying  lord  and  did  him  homage.  The 
King  repeated  the  confession  of  faith,  closed  his  eyes, 
and  died  in  all  the  forms  of  a  pious  Musalman." 

The  worthy  scribe  no  doubt  intended  his  concluding 
sentence  to  dispel,  once  and  for  all,  the  rumor  which 
found  credence  with  many  that  Akbar  had  a  decided  lean 
ing  towards  Christianity.  However  that  may  be,  the  tid 
ings  of  his  death  sounded  the  knell  of  the  adventurers' 
hopes.  Not  only  had  they  lost  the  fortune  within  their 
grasp,  but  they  and  their  Surat  partner  were  ruined. 

Walter's  dream  of  gaining  a  competence  and  sailing 
speedily  to  England  and  Nellie  Roe  was  shattered.  In 
his  despair  he  debated  with  Roger  the  advisability  of 
quitting  Agra  secretly,  and  journeying  towards  Cal 
cutta  by  river. 

But  Roger  swore,  with  quaint  oaths,  that  he  would 
beard  Jahangir  in  his  palace  and  shame  him  before  all 
his  nobles  if  he  did  not  fulfil  Akbar's  behest.  Matters 
were  in  this  desperate  plight  when  a  royal  messenger 
was  announced. 

Wondering  greatly  what  new  development  fickle  fate 
had  in  store  they  admitted  the  man.  He  salaamed 
with  much  ceremony  and  said :  — 

"  My  master,  the  Emperor  Jahangir,  second  Sahib-i- 
Qiran,*  bids  the  illustrious  strangers  wait  on  him  to- 

*  Literally,  "Born  under  favoring  planets,"  a  title  conferred  by 
historians  on  Taimiir,  and  assumed  By  Jahangir. 

[152] 


The  Great  Mogul 

morrow  after  he  appears  at  the  jJiaroka  (window)  to 
receive  the  blessings  of  his  subjects." 

Here  was  the  unexpected  happening  in  very  truth. 
Had  Kingship  made  Jahangir  a  King  ?  Would  he  rise 
superior  to  petty  considerations  and  treat  them  with 
justice  ?  Who  could  tell  ?  As  Roger  said :  — 

"We  mun  eat  a  good  breakfast,  buckle  on  our 
swords,  and  trust  in  Providence." 


[153] 


CHAPTER  X 

"Out  of  this  nettle,  danger,  we  pluck  this  flower,  safety." 
Shakespeare,  "King  Henry  IV." 

JAHANGIR  received  them  in  the  Hall  of  Public  Au 
dience.  If  he  wished  to  inspire  respect  by  a  display  of 
magnificence,  his  appearance  and  surroundings  were 
well  calculated  to  achieve  this  purpose. 

The  fine  building  itself  supplied  a  fitting  shrine  for 
regal  splendor.  The  Arabesque  roof  was  borne  on 
Byzantine  arches,  which  gave  free  access  on  three  sides 
from  a  delightful  parterre.  It  was  closed  on  the  north, 
as  here  it  rested  against  the  higher  ground  which  con 
tained  the  private  apartments.  A  raised  marble  canopy 
stood  out  from  the  center  of  the  built-in  side,  the  floor 
being  some  eight  feet  above  the  mosaic  pavement  of  the 
hall.  This  retreat  held  the  Emperor's  throne,  to  which 
a  small  door  communicated  from  the  back. 

The  throne  was  elevated  on  a  dais  of  silver  steps. 
Four  massive  silver  lions  bore  an  inner  canopy  of  gold, 
curiously  wrought  and  emblazoned  with  jewels.  Tav- 
eraier,  the  French  traveler,  himself  a  goldsmith,  esti 
mated  the  value  of  this  wonderful  structure  at  so  many 
millions  sterling  that  later  historians  have  held  the 
sum  named  to  be  incredible.  Nevertheless,  it  made  a 
brave  show  in  the  clear  light  of  an  Indian  interior  in 
[154] 


The  Great  Mogul 

the  cold  weather.  Not  less  striking  was  the  figure  of 
Jahangir  himself.  Robed  in  white  muslin,  his  belt, 
simitar,  dagger-hilt,  and  scarf  literally  blazed  with 
diamonds.  On  his  turban  reposed  a  Persian  diadem 
with  twelve  points,  each  terminating  in  a  large  diamond 
of  purest  water  and  most  brilliant  luster.  Within  a 
mass  of  sparkling  stones  in  the  center  was  set  a  shim 
mering  pearl  of  extraordinary  size  and  value,  while  a 
necklace  of  smaller  but  exquisite  pearls  served  to 
enhance  the  lustrous  ornament  in  his  crown.  Taver- 
nier,  probably  with  reasonable  accuracy,  valued  the 
diadem  alone  at  two  millions  sterling. 

Grouped  near  him  on  the  steps  of  the  dais,  or  on  the 
platform,  were  several  court  dignitaries,  amidst  whose 
gorgeous  robes  the  Englishmen's  eyes  quickly  dis 
cerned  the  cassock  of  Dom  Geronimo.  A  host  of 
officials  and  nobles  of  lesser  importance  thronged  the 
floor  of  the  great  hall,  and  the  scene  was  one  of  glit 
tering  animation  at  the  moment  the  two  friends  arrived, 
the  only  somber  and  sinister  note  being  the  unrelieved 
black  robe  of  the  Jesuit. 

That  they  were  expected  was  demonstrated  by  the 
sudden  stilling  of  tongues  and  craning  of  necks  as  they 
approached.  All  men  made  way  for  them,  as  men  will, 
though  the  path  be  to  the  steps  of  a  throne,  when  they 
think  a  fellow  creature  is  doomed  to  instant  death  or 
torture.  It  was  common  knowledge  that  these  two 
had  not  only  thwarted  Jahangir's  amours  and  laid 
violent  hands  on  him  in  the  process,  but  that  he  was 
their  creditor,  in  his  father's  behalf,  for  a  considerable 
[155] 


The  Great  Mogul 

sum  of  money.  What  better  reasons  could  there  be 
for  hanging  the  pair  of  them  forthwith  ? 

Yet,  some  prudent  souls,  noting  the  fearless  glances 
cast  around  by  Sainton  and  his  less  colossal  but  power 
fully  built  companion  —  thinking,  perhaps,  that  the 
Emperor  might  call  on  his  faithful  subjects  to  seize 
these  two  —  edged  away  from  the  vicinity.  It  would 
be  much  easier  to  yell  than  to  act  when  Jahangir  cried 
"Maro!"* 

"Desperate  need  calls  for  desperate  deed,"  growled 
Roger  as  they  strode  forward,  side  by  side.  "If  it 
comes  to  a  fight,  Walter,  let  me  sweep  a  clear  space 
with  a  stroke  or  two.  Then  I  shall  catch  thee  by  the 
belt  and  heave  thee  up  at  Jahangir.  It  will  take  him 
by  surprise.  Bring  him  out,  as  a  keen  dog  would  draw 
a  badger.  Once  we  have  him  on  the  floor,  perchance 
we  can  make  terms." 

Walter  laughed  gaily.  The  suggestion  that  they 
should  terrorize  the  whole  Mogul  court  by  sheer  force 
was  ludicrous,  and  its  humor  was  not  lessened  by  the 
knowledge  that  they  were  both  in  a  position  of  imminent 
danger.  The  presence  of  the  Jesuit  in  close  attendance 
on  the  Emperor  was,  in  itself,  an  ominous  sign,  and  the 
mere  sight  of  him  brought  a  glint  into  Mowbray's  blue 
eyes  which  boded  ill  for  Jahangir  if  Roger's  last  daring 
expedient  became  necessary. 

They  advanced  near  to  the  marble  canopy,  and, 
doffing  their  hats,  bowed  respectfully.  Roger,  with  an 
eye  over  his  shoulder,  thought  that  the  eager  mob  of 

*" Kill  them!" 
[156] 


The  Great  Mogul 

courtiers  was  inclined  to  tread  too  closely  on  his  heels. 
With  his  left  hand  he  pressed  the  hilt  of  his  long  sword, 
and  the  scabbard,  sticking  straight  out  behind  him, 
seemed  to  indicate  that  he  did  not  intend  to  be  incom 
moded. 

Anyhow,  those  in  the  rear  read  his  wishes  that  way, 
and  anxiously  whispered  to  others  not  to  thrust  them 
forward,  while  the  wiser  men,  who  had  kept  aloof, 
noting  the  strange  expression  on  Jahangir's  face, 
thanked  Allah  for  the  wit  which  stationed  them  in  a 
safe  place. 

Walter,  who,  of  course,  acted  in  the  assumption  that 
Jahangir  had  sent  for  him  in  the  most  friendly  spirit, 
began  the  conversation  by  addressing  a  neatly  worded 
compliment  to  the  monarch  on  his  accession. 

"It  is  the  happy  law  of  nature,"  he  said,  "that  the 
setting  of  the  sun  shall  be  followed  by  the  rising  thereof. 
May  your  Majesty's  reign  continue  for  as  many  years 
as  that  of  your  illustrious  father,  and  may  the  brightness 
of  your  glory  illumine  the  earth ! " 

Having  some  trick  of  versification,  he  gave  the  words 
a  turn  towards  a  Persian  couplet.  There  was  a  rustle 
of  gratified  surprise  among  the  audience,  few  of  whom 
were  aware  of  Walter's  proficiency  in  the  courtly  lan 
guage  of  Hindustan. 

Jahangir,  smiling  acidly,  bent  forward :  — 

"I  sent  for  a  merchant,"  he  said,  "but  you  have 
brought  me  a  poet." 

"A  happy  chance  enables  me  to  combine  the  two, 
your  Majesty." 

[157] 


The  Great  Mogul 

The  Emperor,  without  any  hesitation,  answered:  — 

"You  are  modest,  withal.  The  last  time  we  met  I 
discovered  in  you  other  qualities,  whilst  your  words 
savored  more  of  the  battlefield  than  of  the  court." 

"I  have  not  seen  your  Majesty  before,"  said  Walter 
boldly,  for  he  could  in  no  wise  guess  what  line  Jahangir 
intended  to  take  with  him,  and  he  was  not  prepared  for 
this  open  allusion  to  the  struggle  at  the  gate  of  the 
Diwan's  garden. 

The  King's  face  exhibited  some  amazement,  as  well 
it  might.  He  significantly  touched  his  right  forearm, 
which  was  closely  wrapped  in  black  silk. 

"  My  eyes  and  ears  may  have  deceived  me,"  he  cried, 
"but  I  have  that  here  which  bears  witness  against 
thee." 

"Your  Majesty  is  good  enough  to  allude  to  a  slight 
dispute  which  involved  Prince  Jahangir  and  another. 
It  did  not  concern  me,  and  I  was  foolish  to  take  part  in 
it,  but  I  maintain  that  had  I  encountered  the  Emperor 
on  that  occasion  I  would  have  behaved  very  differently." 

Dom  Geronimo,  who  lost  no  word  of  the  interview, 
seemed  to  be  displeased  by  Mowbray's  adroit  distinc 
tion  between  the  occupant  of  the  throne  and  a  prince 
of  the  royal  blood.  He  leaned  over  and  whispered 
something,  but  Jahangir  paid  little  heed  to  him. 

"Then,  you  think  a  monarch  should  have  no  mem 
ory  ?  "  he  asked,  looking  fixedly  at  Walter. 

"Not  so.  He  should  remember  his  friends  and 
forget  his  enemies." 

"And  how  shall  I  class  thee  and  thy  comrade?" 
[158] 


The  Great  Mogul 

"We  trust  that  your  Majesty  will  continue  to  show 
us  the  favor  manifested  by  your  royal  father." 

Jahangir  laughed. 

"  It  is  strange,"  he  said  slowly,  "  but  you  have  read 
my  intention.  I  am  told  that  the  renowned  Akbar  had 
it  in  mind  to  give  you  an  exhibition  of  certain  sports 
which  he  loved.  Faithful  to  his  wishes  in  every  respect 
as  I  am,  I  have  brought  you  hither  to-day  for  that  same 
purpose.  I  have  ordered  a  steward  to  wait  on  you. 
After  the  midday  meal  he  will  conduct  you  to  the 
tamdshd-gdh,*  where  I  will  meet  you.  Farewell.  •  God 
is  great!" 

"May  His  brightness  shine  forth!"  chanted  the 
Mahomedans  present,  and,  ere  Mowbray  and  Sainton 
well  understood  the  King's  desire,  Jahangir  had  van 
ished  and  they  were  confronted  by  a  bowing  chamber 
lain,  who  besought  them  to  accompany  him  to  a 
guest-room. 

Here,  an  excellent  meal  was  served.  On  the  table 
were  several  flagons  of  various  wines.  Though  they 
knew  not  what  was  in  store  for  them,  and  the  Emperor's 
manner  was  as  inscrutable  as  his  words,  they  fully 
believed  that  he  did  not  mean  them  to  be  poisoned  on 
that  occasion,  so  they  ate  heartily,  notwithstanding 
Roger's  earlier  precaution  in  the  matter  of  breakfast. 
But  the  wine,  though  its  novelty  was  tempting,  they 
spared.  They  knew  its  effects  in  that  climate,  and 
until  they  were  far  removed  from  Agra  it  behooved  them 
to  keep  eye  undimmed  and  blood  free  from  fever. 

*  Arena,  or  sport-ground. 
[159] 


The  Great  Mogul 

The  less  they  drank  the  more  the  steward  pressed 
the  wine  upon  them,  until  Roger,  whom  the  sight  of 
the  flagons  tried  sorely,  bade  the  man,  if  he  were  minded 
to  be  truly  hospitable,  send  the  liquor  to  their  abode, 
where  they  would  endeavor  to  do  it  justice. 

"  If  your  Honor  will  say  that  you  have  already  par 
taken  of  it  I  shall  obey  your  behest,"  said  the  other 
with  alacrity. 

"That  will  be  only  the  bare  truth,"  was  the  aston 
ished  reply,  for  they  had  each  tasted  a  small  quantity 
and  found  it  excellent,  there  being  Canary,  Alicant, 
Malaga,  and  the  famed  product  of  Oporto  on  the 
board. 

"  'Ware  hawk,  Roger,"  interposed  Walter.  "  Unless 
I  mistake  me  greatly  we  are  being  screwed  up  to  under 
go  some  ordeal.  Jahangir  said  naught  of  paying  us. 
I  dislike  his  civility." 

"  Gad !  if  this  honest  fellow  keeps  his  word  and 
conveys  the  bottles  to  the  old  Diwan's  house,  I  shall 
change  my  mind  anent  the  chuck  ere  midnight.  What 
flea  hath  bitten  thee  now,  Walter?  The  King  hath 
dealt  with  us  right  royally,  and  you  and  he  seemed  to 
oil  each  other  with  smooth  words." 

"I  cannot  forego  my  suspicions.  They  are  useless, 
I  admit.  We  have  thrust  our  heads  into  the  jaws  of 
the  lion,  and  can  scarce  complain  if  he  snaps  them 
off." 

"Let  us  rather  resolve  to  give  him  the  toothache  if 
he  tries  any  tricks,"  growled  Sainton.  "Make  for 
him,  lad,  if  there  be  aught  amiss.  Trust  to  me  to  clear 
[160] 


The  Great  Mogul 

a  path.  For  each  one  in  the  crowd  who  draws  for  the 
King  there  will  be  another  ready  to  draw  against  him 
should  they  see  a  chance  of  success." 

They  spoke  in  English.  Their  native  attendant, 
seeing  that  they  had  finished  their  meal,  begged  to  be 
allowed  to  depart  for  a  little  while.  When  all  was 
ready  he  would  come  and  bring  them  to  the  tamdshd- 
gdh.  They  were  seated  in  a  beautiful  apartment,  with 
frescoed  walls,  mosaic  floor,  and  arched  Moorish  roof 
composed  of  colored  tiles.  On  one  side  it  opened  into 
a  garden.  The  palace,  unlike  most  kingly  residences, 
was  not  one  vast  building,  but  was  made  up  of  a 
series  of  exquisitely  proportioned  halls  or  small  pri 
vate  abodes,  sometimes  connected  by  covered  ways, 
but  often  standing  quite  apart,  and  always  surrounded 
by  a  wealth  of  flowers  and  foliage  peculiarly  grateful 
to  eyes  wearied  by  the  glare  of  the  sun  reflected  from 
white  marble. 

Industriously  watering  the  plants  was  a  sturdy  bhisti, 
or  water-carrier.  His  goatskin  bag  seemed  to  be  inex 
haustible.  He  had  been  traversing  the  garden  paths 
throughout  the  whole  time  they  were  eating.  No 
sooner  were  they  alone  in  the  room  than  he  ran  close 
to  the  plinth  and  began  to  deluge  the  rose-bushes  in 
good  earnest. 

"Protector  of  the  poor!"  he  murmured  to  Walter, 
"stay  not  here.  Go  away  quickly,  in  God's  name!" 

Considerably  startled  by  the  man's  words,  which 
chimed  so  strangely  with  his  own  forebodings,  Mowbray 
bent  towards  him. 

[161] 


The  Great  Mogul 

"Who  bade  thee  give  me  this  message?"  he  asked, 
knowing  full  well  that  such  a  menial  would  never  dare 
to  speak  on  his  own  authority. 

"  One  who  wishes  thee  well,  sahib  —  my  wife,  to 
wit,"  answered  the  bhisti. 

"Thy  wife!" 

"Yes,  honored  one.  You  plucked  our  child  from 
death  in  the  river,  and  my  wife  heard  from  others  that 
there  is  intent  to  make  sport  with  thee  and  the  Hathi- 
sahib  ere  both  are  put  to  death." 

Swish,  swish  went  the  water  among  the  rose-leaves. 
Never  was  there  a  more  energetic  bhisti,  for  a  gardener 
had  appeared,  and  further  talk  was  impossible. 

"  As  well  die  here  as  a  mile  away,"  was  Roger's  quiet 
comment.  "  We  have  breakfasted,  we  have  dined,  and 
a  fight  is  toward.  What  more  can  a  man  want  ?  Out 
with  your  hanger,  Walter,  when  Jahangir  so  much  as 
opes  his  mouth  to  speak  crossly.  We  shall  give  him  a 
feast  of  steel,  with  first,  second,  and  third  course  all 
alike.  There  shall  be  much  carving,  yet  none  will  tarry 
to  eat.  Gad!  this  talking  makes  me  thirsty,  and,  if  I 
am  fated  to  fall  to-day,  their  blades  may  as  well  let  out 
some  good  liquor.  Fall  to,  lad!  We  may  not  have 
another  chance." 

He  seized  a  bottle  of  Alicant  and  poured  out  two 
generous  measures.  Mowbray  lifted  a  tankard  and 
cried :  — 

"Here's  to  Old  England  and  Nellie  Roe,  if  I  never 
see  either  again ! " 

"  And  here's  to  the  day  when  I  set  foot  on  the  heather 
[162] 


The  Great  Mogul 

once  more!"  was  Roger's  sturdy  rejoinder.  It  was  in 
such  spirit  that  they  followed  the  chamberlain  when  he 
reappeared. 

They  had  no  opportunity  of  conversing  again  with 
the  bhisti.  Whatever  good  cause  inspired  his  myste 
rious  message  they  were  now  on  the  verge  of  enlighten 
ment,  so  Walter  called  the  poor  fellow  towards  him  and 
openly  presented  him  with  some  rupees,  saying :  — 

"He  that  refreshes  the  thirsty  earth  and  causes  the 
flowers  to  grow  is  among  the  most  deserving  of  mor 
tals." 

The  man  shifted  his  water-bag  uneasily. 

"Salaam,  sahib,"  he  said.  "May  your  years  be 
numbered  as  the  pice  in  these  coins!" 

Now,  there  are  sixty-four  pice  in  a  rupee,  so  the 
bhisti's  wish  had  not  an  uncheerful  ring  in  their  ears 
as  they  followed  their  guide  across  the  garden  and 
thence  to  a  new  part  of  the  palace  grounds.  They  were 
conducted  to  an  extensive  stone  platform,  built  level 
with  the  fortifications  at  a  point  where  the  outer  walls 
were  laved  by  the  river  Jumna. 

Exactly  in  front  of  and  below  the  platform,  however, 
a  square  enclosed  court,  or  arena,  was  reclaimed  from 
the  bed  of  the  stream.  The  preparations  in  progress 
there,  no  less  than  the  presence  of  several  elephants  in 
battle  gear,  hunting  leopards  in  leash,  antelopes  trained 
for  fighting,  buffaloes  whose  tremendous  horns  were 
tipped  with  lance  points,  and  many  other  animals, 
including  even  the  ungainly  rhinoceros,  showed  what 
manner  of  sport  was  forthcoming.  Notwithstanding 
[163] 


The  Great  Mogul 

the  precarious  condition  of  their  own  fortunes,  both 
Mowbray  and  Sainton  regarded  the  scene  with  curious 
eyes.  They  had,  of  course,  during  their  three  years' 
sojourn,  witnessed  the  fierce  spring  of  the  chitah*  onto 
the  back  of  a  flying  deer;  they  had  chased  wild  boar 
and  even  nilgau,  the  fierce  blue  cow  of  India,  on  horse 
back;  they  had  seen  a  trained  eagle  pounce  onto  an 
antelope  and  buffet  the  frightened  creature's  head  with 
its  wings  until  the  claws  got  to  work.  But  a  combat 
of  elephants  was  a  King's  amusement,  as  few  save  a 
monarch  could  afford  the  cost  or  compel  men  to  risk 
and  lose  their  lives  in  such  fashion. 

The  broad  terrace  on  which  they  stood  was  flanked 
by  the  graceful  buildings  of  the  zenana.  A  double  line 
of  spear-men  guarded  it  on  three  sides,  while  another 
batch  of  warriors  surrounded  a  ponderous  block  of 
black  marble,  resting  on  four  low  supports,  which  bore 
the  Emperor's  chair.  This  was  placed  close  to  the 
edge  of  the  battlements,  so  that  his  Majesty  could  watch 
each  detail  of  the  sanguinary  encounters  in  the  arena 
some  twenty  feet  beneath.  The  chair  was  securely 
bound  to  the  marble  block  lest  it  should  topple  over  in 
a  moment  of  royal  excitement,  and  there  was  standing 
room  on  the  huge  stone  to  accommodate  a  dozen  priv 
ileged  spectators.  For  the  rest,  the  platform  extended 
so  far  on  either  hand  that  all  could  look  easily  into  the 
enclosure,  whilst  many  a  window  and  balcony  of  the 
palace  permitted  the  ladies  of  the  household  to  take 
part  in  the  proceedings  if  they  were  so  minded.  When 

*  Leopard 
[164] 


The  Great  Mogul 

the  Englishmen  arrived  there  were  already  many  rajahs, 
omrahs,  and  other  notabilities  standing  in  groups  on 
the  terrace.  None  of  these  addressed  the  strangers, 
but  muttered  words  and  covert  looks  showed  that 
some  event  was  toward  of  which  those  present  were 
cognizant. 

Roger  eyed  the  strength  of  the  guard  and  smiled. 
He  laughed  outright  when  he  nudged  Walter  to  note 
the  manner  in  which  even  the  royal  chair  was  pro 
tected. 

"Jahangir  either  plans  mischief  or  is  afraid  of  it," 
he  said.  "  He  hath  marshaled  a  small  army  to  protect 
him  in  his  own  house." 

Walter  straightway  took  the  bull  by  the  horns  in 
addressing  a  question  to  one  who  stood  near  and  with 
whom  he  had  a  slight  acquaintance. 

"  Is  such  display  of  force  usual  within  the  palace  ? " 
he  asked. 

The  other  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  They  talk  of  a  fierce  tiger  being  let  loose,"  he  mur 
mured.  "One  never  knows  what  may  happen." 

He  vouchsafed  no  further  information.  Indeed,  at 
that  moment,  Jahangir  put  in  an  appearance.  His 
swarthy  face  was  flushed  and  there  was  an  evil  glint  in 
his  close  set  eyes.  Evidently  he  had  been  imbibing 
liquor  forbidden  by  the  Prophet.  Accompanied  by  a 
few  young  noblemen  whose  appearance  betokened  the 
force  of  kingly  example,  he  strode  towards  his  chair 
without  paying  the  slightest  attention  to  the  respectful 
salaams  of  the  crowd. 

[165] 


The  Great  Mogul 

"  Bring  the  sheep  first,"  he  grunted.  "  We  shall  deal 
with  the  pigs  later." 

This  obscure  joke  was  greeted  with  shouts  of  laughter. 

"Karamat!  Karamat!"*  was  the  exclamation,  for 
every  Mahomedan  there  had  laid  to  heart  the  Persian 
proverb :  — 

"Should  the  King  say  that  it  is  night  at  noon, 
Be  sure  to  cry:    ' Behold,  I  see  the  moon! '" 

Yet  Mowbray,  alert  to  discern  the  slightest  straw- 
twist  on  the  swirl  of  the  current,  thought  that  some  of 
the  older  men  glanced  askance  at  each  other,  which 
puzzled  him,  as  he  knew  quite  well  that  the  death  of  a 
Feringhi  was  of  little  account  to  an  Asiatic. 

The  "sheep"  alluded  to  by  Jahangir  were  veritable 
carcases  of  those  animals,  slung  from  poles  by  the  feet 
tied  in  a  bunch.  They  were  carried  by  servants  onto 
the  terrace  itself,  and  forthwith  a  few  athletic  youths 
created  some  excitement  by  endeavoring,  in  the  first 
place,  to  cut  through  the  four  feet  at  one  blow,  and, 
secondly,  to  divide  the  body  in  the  same  way.  They 
used  their  razor-edged  simitars  with  much  skill,  science 
rather  than  great  strength  being  demanded  by  the 
task. 

When  half  a  dozen  carcases  had  been  dissected  with 
more  or  less  success,  Jahangir  shouted  a  question  to 
Sainton,  of  whose  presence  he  seemed  to  be  unaware 
hitherto. 

"  Tell  me,  Hathi,"  he  cried.     "  Canst  perform  either 

*  "  Wonderful !  Wonderful ! " 
[166] 


The  Great  Mogul 

trick  with  thy  long  sword  ?  Thy  arm  is  strong,  but  is 
thy  wrist  supple  ?  " 

All  eyes  were  instantly  bent  on  Roger,  to  whom 
Mowbray  whispered  the  King's  meaning  lest  he  had 
not  properly  caught  the  words.  The  giant  grinned 
genially. 

"  A  slung  sheep  offers  but  slight  resistance  to  a  blow," 
he  said.  "  Were  he  fresh  from  the  spit  I'd  sooner  eat 
him." 

Discreet  mirth  rewarded  his  humor,  but  Jahangir 
wheeled  round  in  his  chair  towards  the  ditch  and 
clapped  his  hands  as  a  signal  to  the  attendants.  At 
once  began  a  series  of  sanguinary  events  in  which 
buffaloes  contended  with  nilgau,  hunting  dogs  tore 
down  bears  let  loose  from  invisible  caverns,  and  pan 
thers  made  magnificent  leaps  after  flying  deer.  Few 
were  real  combats.  In  most  cases  a  helpless  creature 
was  ruthlessly  slaughtered  by  some  vicious  and  snarling 
enemy,  and  the  more  ghastly  the  dying  struggles  of  the 
doomed  antelope  or  bellowing  cow  the  more  excited 
and  vociferous  became  the  spectators. 

A  fight  between  elephants  was  a  really  thrilling 
affair.  Two  magnificent  brutes,  specially  imported 
form  Ceylon,  were  led  up  on  opposite  sides  of  a  low 
mud  wall  built  on  wood  and  carried  into  the  arena  by 
a  host  of  men.  Gorgeously  caparisoned,  and  trum 
peting  strange  squeals  of  defiance,  each  elephant  was 
urged  towards  this  barrier  by  his  two  riders.  Sep 
arated  at  first  by  the  wall,  they  fought  furiously  with 
heads,  tusks,  and  trunks,  while  the  leading  mahout 
[167] 


The  Great  Mogul 

encouraged  his  mount  by  shrill  cries,  forcing  him  to 
the  attack  with  a  steel  ankus,  or  striving  to  ward  off 
the  blows  of  the  opposing  beast's  trunk  with  the 
same  instrument.  It  was  quickly  apparent  why  there 
were  two  men  astride  an  elephant.  Each  cunning 
brute  knew  that  it  was  an  advantage  to  get  rid  of  his 
adversary's  maliout,  and,  indeed,  one  rider  was  killed 
before  the  fight  was  long  in  progress.  But  the  death 
of  the  man  so  enraged  his  elephant  that  he  sprang 
onto  the  wall  ere  the  second  attendant  could  climb  to 
his  head,  and  gored  his  opponent  in  the  flank  with 
such  ferocity  that  the  other  turned  and  fled. 

The  two  rushed  towards  the  end  of  the  enclosure, 
and  the  leading  animal  charged  a  stout  barricade  so 
blindly  that  it  yielded  before  his  great  bulk.  He  fell, 
and  the  pursuer  attacked  him  furiously.  At  once  a 
terrific  fanfare  of  hautboys  and  cymbals  burst  forth, 
and  a  number  of  men  ran  with  lighted  fireworks,  mostly 
Catherine  wheels,  attached  to  long  sticks,  which  they 
thrust  under  the  legs  and  before  the  eyes  of  the  victor. 
This  device  caused  him  to  abandon  the  assault,  and  he 
allowed  his  remaining  mahout  to  drive  him  away,  but 
not  until  two  unfortunate  bhois,  or  attendants,  had  been 
trodden  to  death. 

Jahangir  nodded  his  satisfaction,  and  the  riders  of 
the  elephants  were  permitted  to  alight,  each  man  being 
given  a  sackful  of  pice,  while  the  ears  of  the  conquering 
animal  were  decorated  with  tails  of  the  white  Tibetan 
ox,  or  yak.  As  for  the  inanimate  corpses  of  the  hapless 
mahout  and  his  assistants,  they  were  huddled  onto 
[168] 


The  Great  Mogul 

biers  and  borne  away,  followed  by  some  shrieking 
women,  whose  plaints  were  drowned  by  the  din  of 
trumpets  six  or  seven  feet  in  length  and  a  foot  wide  at 
the  mouth. 

It  must  not  be  imagined  that  the  spectacle  disgusted 
the  English  onlookers.  In  an  age  when  men  lived  by 
the  sword,  when  personal  bravery  and  physical  hardi 
hood  were  the  best  equipment  a  youth  could  possess, 
there  were  no  fastidious  notions  as  to  the  sacredness  of 
human  life  or  the  deliberate  cruelty  involved  in  such 
encounters. 

They  were  wondering  what  would  provide  the  next 
act  in  this  drama  of  blood  and  death  when  a  stir  towards 
the  rear  of  the  platform  on  which  they  stood  caused 
them  to  look  in  that  direction. 

Sainton,  by  reason  of  his  height,  could  see  over  the 
heads  of  the  crowd. 

"  By  the  cross  of  Osmotherly ! "  he  cried,  "  the  mystery 
is  cleared.  Here  comes  Sher  Afghan,  closely  tended, 
if  not  a  prisoner." 

It  was,  indeed,  the  Persian  noble  himself  who  now 
advanced  towards  Jahangir,  the  Emperor  having  swung 
his  chair,  which  was  on  a  pivot,  to  face  the  palace. 
Sher  Afghan's  mien  was  collected,  his  dress  in  good 
order.  He  was  unarmed,  and  the  mace-bearers  who 
marched  behind  him  might  be  merely  doing  him  honor. 

With  eyes  for  none  save  Jahangir  he  strode  on  with 
firm  step.  At  the  proper  distance  he  stopped  and 
bowed  deeply. 

"  To  hear  the  King's  order  is  to  obey,"  he  said  quietly. 
[169] 


The  Great  Mogul 

"  Your  Majesty's  messenger  rode  far,  for  I  hastened  to 
Burdwan,  but  when  he  reached  me  I  turned  my  horse's 
head  that  moment." 

"  Say  rather,  you  gave  orders  to  your  litter  carriers. 
When  last  we  parted  you  had  pleasant  company  in  the 
palki,"  replied  Jahangir. 

"Neither  my  wife  nor  I  love  indolence,  O  King  of 
Kings.  We  have  ridden  hither  at  the  rate  of  sixty 
miles  a  day." 

"I  am  glad  of  it.  Being  newly  come  to  the  throne 
I  did  not  wish  the  most  beautiful  and  the  bravest  of  my 
subjects  to  be  banished  from  the  capital  to  far  Burd 
wan." 

"Your  Majesty's  words  are  more  propitious  than  a 
favorable  sign  in  the  heavens." 

"  They  carry  no  better  augury  than  the  hour  of  your 
arrival,  for,  in  very  truth,  I  feared  you  might  be  tardy. 
I  owe  these  strangers  from  beyond  the  black  waters 
some  slight  debt  in  my  illustrious  father's  behalf. 
Certain  monies  shall  be  paid  them,  but  first  I  have 
discharged  a  promise  of  the  great  Akbar's  to  entertain 
them." 

He  waved  a  jeweled  hand  towards  Mowbray  and 
Sainton,  and  the  Persian  saw  them  for  the  first  time. 
But  Jahangir  went  on  slowly,  his  white  teeth  showing 
as  if  he  wished  to  bite  each  word:  — 

"Thy  coming,  friend,  hath  provided  for  all  a  truly 
marvelous  close  to  a  day  of  pleasure.     Art  thou  not 
named  Sher  Afghan,  Slayer  of  Tigers  ?     Behold,  then, 
a  foe  worthy  even  of  thy  reputation." 
[170] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Again  he  clapped  his  hands.  A  door  was  opened  in 
the  cellars  beneath,  and  a  great  Bengal  tiger,  maddened 
by  hours  of  torture,  sprang  into  the  center  of  the  arena, 
the  broken  barrier  having  been  hastily  repaired  with 
strong  hurdles.  The  lissome  beast,  whose  striped  skin 
shone  like  cloth  of  gold  and  brown  velvet  in  the  rays 
of  the  declining  sun,  stood  for  a  little  while  lashing  his 
sides  in  fury  with  his  tail  until  he  caught  the  scent  of 
blood.  Then  he  crouched,  and  began  to  stalk,  he  cared 
not  what.  The  air  was  fetid  with  killing,  and  this 
past  master  in  the  hunter's  art  knew  the  tokens  of  his 
craft. 

But  the  arena  was  otherwise  empty,  and  his  lambent 
eyes,  searching  eagerly  for  the  cause  of  so  much  reek, 
were  raised  at  last  to  the  intent  row  of  faces  looking 
down  at  him. 

"  What  sayest  thou,  Sher  Afghan,"  cried  the  Emperor. 
"Art  thou  minded  to  vindicate  thy  title  with  one  who 
seems  to  dispute  it,  or  has  a  happy  marriage  robbed 
thy  arm  of  its  prowess  ?  " 

The  Persian  hesitated.  He,  like  his  English  friends, 
had  thought  it  better  to  brave  Jahangir's  animosity  in 
Agra  itself  than  fall  beneath  the  attack  of  hirelings  in 
some  distant  fray.  In  the  capital,  there  was  always  a 
chance  of  a  political  upheaval  as  the  outcome  of  a  quar 
rel,  whereas,  in  a  remote  part,  the  minions  of  a  vengeful 
monarch  might  strike  unheeded.  Jahangir's  tenure 
of  the  throne  was  far  from  stable.  Yet,  though  he 
might  not  dare  openly  to  put  to  death  a  noble  of  high 
rank,  this  challenge  meant  little  else,  even  if  it  held 
[171] 


The  Great  Mogul 

the  plausible  pretext  that  Sher  Afghan  chose  his  doom 
voluntarily. 

A  thrill  of  anticipation  shook  all  hearers  as  they 
awaited  the  Persian's  answer.  He  gazed  around  on 
them  disdainfully,  for  he  was  well  aware  that  many 
there  would  utter  a  protest  did  they  not  fear  for  their 
own  skins.  Then  he  spoke. 

"  Give  me  arms  and  a  ladder,"  he  said,  "  and  I  shall 
try  to  kill  the  beast." 

A  murmur  arose,  like  the  hum  of  wind-tossed  leaves 
presaging  a  storm.  Some  men  might  have  been  warned 
by  it,  but  the  Emperor,  already  half  intoxicated,  was 
now  goaded  to  utter  madness  by  his  rival's  cool  daring. 

"Arms  thou  shalt  have,"  he  screamed,  "but  what 
need  is  there  of  a  ladder  ?  Why  not  jump  ?  There  is 
sand  beneath!" 

Now  this,  indeed,  was  spurring  Sher  Afghan  to  his 
death,  for  the  tiger  would  be  on  him  with  inconceivable 
speed  ere  he  could  recover  his  feet. 

Among  those  who  thronged  breathlessly  forward  to 
hear  all  that  passed,  Roger  Sainton  listened  and  under 
stood.  The  big  Yorkshireman's  eyes  glowed  like  live 
coals,  and  the  veins  on  his  neck  bulged  with  sudden 
passion.  It  was  in  his  mind  to  end  the  quarrel  then 
and  there  by  sweeping  the  Emperor  and  a  row  of  his 
guards  into  the  fosse,  but  a  quaint  idea  suddenly 
gripped  him,  and,  without  any  hesitation,  he  put  it  in 
force. 

Thrusting  the  gapers  left  and  right  he  reached  the 
royal  dais. 

[172] 


The  Great  Mogul 

"If  not  a  ladder,  friend,"  he  said  to  Sher  Afghan, 
"  why  not  a  step  ?  " 

With  that,  he  stooped  and  caught  hold  of  the  huge 
block  of  black  marble.  Before  anyone  so  much  as 
grasped  his  intent  he  lifted  it  from  its  supports,  toppling 
Jahangir  and  several  of  his  favorites  in  a  confused  heap 
on  the  terrace.  Then  he  pitched  the  mass  of  stone  into 
the  arena  and  it  chanced  to  fall  flat  onto  the  crouching 
tiger. 

His  sword  flashed  out  as  several  spear-men,  having 
recovered  their  wits,  made  lunges  at  him. 

"Hold  back,  good  fellows!"  he  cried  cheerily,  for 
Roger's  anger  never  continued  when  steel  was  bared. 
"Mayhap  the  Emperor  thinks  the  revel  is  ended!" 


[173] 


CHAPTER  XI 

"I  do  not  set  my  life  at  a  pin's  fee." 

Hamlet,  Act  I. 

MORTAL  fear  has  caused  many  a  man  to  run  who 
thought  himself  unable  to  walk.  It  now  gave  a  tonic 
to  an  inebriate  king.  Jahangir,  struggling  to  his  feet, 
obtained  a  fleeting  glimpse  of  Roger  Sainton's  amazing 
achievement.  He  heard  more  definitely  the  crashing 
fall  of  the  great  stone  into  the  arena,  and  his  first 
emotion  was  one  of  profound  thankfulness  that  he  and 
several  of  his  boon  companions  had  not  gone  with  it. 

But  instantly  there  came  the  knowledge  that  he  had 
been  treated  with  contumely  before  all  his  court.  So 
his  face,  already  pallid  with  terror,  became  even  more 
white  with  anger,  and  words  trembled  on  his  lips  which, 
if  uttered,  would  have  been  the  irrevocable  signal  for 
a  wild  tumult.  Yet,  hidden  away  in  the  brain  of  this 
headstrong  debauchee  there  was  a  latent  sense  of  king 
craft  which  taught  him  caution,  and  deep  down  in  his 
soul  was  a  certain  nobility  of  character  which  age  and 
the  cares  of  a  ruler  developed  in  later  years.  His  quick 
eyes  discovered  what  Roger  had  truly  divined.  There 
was  many  a  powerful  noble  there  ready  to  espouse  the 
cause  of  Sher  Afghan,  whilst,  such  was  the  awe  in 
spired  by  Sainton's  almost  supernatural  feat,  it  was 
[174] 


The  Great  Mogul 

more  than  likely  the  giant's  onslaught  would  create  a 
mad  stampede.  Moreover,  Jahangir  himself  was  as 
conscious  as  any  present  that  he  had  witnessed  a  deed 
whose  memory  would  endure  through  the  ages,  and  the 
warring  influences  in  his  breast  sobered  him  for  the 
moment. 

With  a  self-control  that  was  wholly  creditable,  he 
held  up  an  authoritative  hand. 

"  Who  dares  to  strike  ere  the  Emperor  commands  ?  " 
he  cried,  and  his  strong  voice  stilled  the  rising  waves  of 
agitation  as  oil  beats  down  the  crests  of  troubled  waters. 

Heedless,  or  perhaps  unknowing,  that  his  turban  was 
awry,  he  walked  to  the  edge  of  the  parapet  and  looked 
over.  There  lay  the  fine  marble  slab,  broken  in  two  as 
it  remains  to  this  day,  though  it  was  quickly  restored 
to  its  old-time  site.  Bound  to  it  were  the  silken  cords 
which  fastened  the  imperial  chair,  the  seat  itself  having 
been  crushed  into  a  thousand  splinters  underneath. 

He  turned  towards  Roger;  though  a  cruel  despot, 
Jahangir  was  a  sportsman:  — 

"Did  it  fall  on  the  tiger?"  he  asked. 

The  big  man  pretended  to  scan  the  arena. 

"  As  the  beast  is  nowhere  else  to  be  seen  I  doubt  not 
he  is  on  the  right  side  of  the  stone,  your  Majesty,"  he 
answered. 

"  Why  did  you  not  warn  me  of  your  intent  ?  I  would 
have  given  a  lakh  of  rupees  to  have  seen  this  thing." 

Roger  was  far  too  quick-witted  not  to  accept  the  cue 
thus  thrown  to  him. 

"  There  was  scant  time  for  words,  your  Majesty,"  he 
[175] 


The  Great  Mogul 

said.  "In  another  instant  your  devoted  servant,  Sher 
Afghan,  would  have  been  in  the  pit  with  the  snarling 
brute.  For  sure  you  meant  but  to  try  him.  Never 
theless,  I  made  bold  to  interfere,  as  there  is  many  a 
tiger,  but  only  one  such  man  among  your  vassals." 

The  big  man's  humor  was  mordant,  but  the  excited 
throng  chose  to  ignore  the  implied  disparagement,  and 
a  murmur  of  applause  told  the  Emperor  that  in  curbing 
his  wrath  he  had  acted  with  exceeding  wisdom. 

"You  are  right,"  he  said  slowly.  "I  am  much  be 
holden  to  you,  and  that  is  more  than  some  kings  would 
say  who  had  been  flung  headlong  to  the  ground.  But 
see,"  he  added,  making  a  brave  show  of  nonchalance 
as  he  faced  the  crowd  and  waved  a  haughty  hand 
toward  the  west,  "the  hour  of  evening  prayer  ap 
proaches.  Let  us  to  the  mosque!" 

"  Now  look  you,"  murmured  Sainton  to  Walter,  who 
stood  watchful,  with  sword-arm  ready,  during  these 
thrilling  moments,  "there  goes  a  man  with  murder  in 
his  heart,  yet  will  he  turn  his  jowl  to  Mecca  and  chant 
verses  from  the  Koran  with  the  best  of  them." 

"  I  fear  he  only  bides  his  time.  But  what  good  fairy 
prompted  you  to  act  in  such  a  way  ?  I  knew  not  what 
to  do.  I  felt  that  any  moment  we  might  be  fighting  for 
our  lives,  yet  I  saw  no  loophole  of  escape." 

"Ecod,  I  remembered  my  mother  telling  me  that  a 
white  sheet  makes  nine  parts  of  a  ghost  on  a  dark 
night.  I  reckoned  to  scare  'em  with  a  bogie,  and 
succeeded." 

In  company  with  Sher  Afghan,  they  quitted  the  palace 
[176] 


The  Great  Mogul 

fortress  without  let  or  hindrance.  The  gallant  Persian, 
after  thanking  Roger  for  his  aid,  explained  his  motive 
in  returning  to  Agra.  He  had  reached  the  Garden  of 
Heart's  Delight  only  an  hour  after  they  quitted  it  that 
morning.  Hence,  Jahangir  was  evidently  quite  well  in 
formed  as  to  his  movements,  and  had  planned  the 
escapade  with  the  tiger  as  a  means  of  requiting  one,  at 
least,  of  his  avowed  enemies.  Indeed,  they  learned 
later  that,  in  the  event  of  Sher  Afghan's  death,  the  spear 
men  were  ordered  to  close  round  Sainton  and  Mowbray 
and  bear  them  down  by  sheer  force  of  numbers  if  they 
strove  to  assist  their  friend.  Roger  had  defeated  the 
scheme  only  by  taking  advantage  of  a  prior  moment  of 
intense  excitement. 

When  Sher  Afghan  told  them  that  Nur  Mahal  and 
he,  with  their  retinue,  had  taken  up  their  residence  in 
the  Diwan's  house,  the  Englishmen  wished  to  return 
forthwith  to  the  caravansary.  But  this  the  Persian 
would  in  no  wise  permit.  He  sat  late  with  them  that 
evening,  and,  from  words  which  fell  now  and  then  in 
the  talk,  they  gathered  that  while  he  was  even  more 
enamored  than  ever  of  his  wife  the  haughty  beauty 
herself  was  far  from  being  content  with  her  lot. 

"  She  intended  to  be  a  queen,"  he  sighed  once,  "  and, 
alas,  my  kingdom  is  too  small  and  rude  to  suit  her 
tastes." 

"  Why,  then,  did  you  not  send  her  to  Burdwan,  and 
come  here  alone  in  deference  to  the  king's  command  ?  " 
asked  Walter. 

"Because  there  she  would  pine  in  solitude.  Here, 
[177] 


The  Great  Mogul 

I  have  good  hopes  that  Jahangir's  profligacy  will  disgust 
her.  Already  I  have  heard  grave  rumors  of  court 
dissensions.  Saw  you  not  to-day  how  ready  were  many 
to  oppose  him  ?  " 

"Thank  Heaven  it  was  so,  else  naught  could  have 
saved  us.  But  what  of  the  morrow?  You  will  incur 
constant  danger.  As  for  us,  we  have  well  nigh  aban 
doned  all  hope  of  gaining  the  reward  of  our  venture. 
Were  it  not  for  my  stout-hearted  friend  we  had  en 
deavored  long  ere  this  to  leave  our  fortunes  a  sunken 
ship  in  Agra." 

"  Say  not  so.  The  shame  of  foregoing  Akbar's  obli 
gations  would  travel  far,  and  the  King  cannot  afford 
to  lose  his  good  name  with  traders.  Bide  on  in  con 
tent.  His  mood  changes  each  hour,  and  surely  the 
day  will  come  when  he  shall  treat  you  royally.  I  have 
good  cause  to  hate  Jahangir,  yet  I  would  never  say  of 
him  that  he  is  wholly  ignoble." 

Their  conversation  was  interrupted  by  a  servant, 
who  announced  that  a  store  of  wine  had  been  sent  from 
the  palace  for  the  Feringhis. 

"Gad!"  cried  Roger,  "that  cat-footed  servitor  hath 
not  forgotten  my  request.  And  it  is  good  liquor,  too." 

Sher  Afghan  was  very  suspicious  of  the  gift  until  they 
apprised  him  of  all  that  had  happened.  Though  he 
would  not  drink  he  smelt  and  tasted  samples  of  the 
wine,  which,  apparently,  had  not  been  tampered  with 
in  any  way.  His  brow  cleared  when  he  convinced 
himself  that  no  trick  was  intended. 

"  I  told  you,"  he  said,  "  that  Jahangir's  nature  owed 
[178] 


The  Great  Mogul 

something  to  his  lineage.  May  Allah  grant  him  wit 
enough  to  win  me  and  others  to  his  side  by  reason  of 
his  f orebearance ! " 

With  this  magnanimous  wish  on  his  lips  he  quitted 
them.  They  were  fated  soon  to  recall  his  words  in 
bitterness  and  despair.  Jahangir,  sunk  in  renewed 
orgy,  and  twitted  by  his  evil  associates  with  the  failure 
of  the  afternoon's  device,  was  even  then  devoting  him 
self,  with  an  almost  diabolical  ingenuity,  to  a  fresh  plot 
for  their  undoing. 

He  limned  the  project  fully,  but  declared  with  scorn 
that  it  needed  a  man  of  courage  to  carry  it  out,  and 
there  was  not  one  such  in  his  court. 

Whereupon,  Kutub-ud-din,  his  foster-brother,  who 
was  noted  chiefly  for  the  girth  of  his  paunch,  but  who, 
nevertheless,  had  some  reputation  for  personal  bravery, 
sprang  up  from  the  cushions  on  which  he  reposed  and 
cried :  — 

"  Give  me  the  vice-royalty  of  Bengal  and  I  swear,  by 
the  beard  of  the  Prophet,  to  bring  you  news  of  Sher 
Afghan's  death  ere  day  dawns." 

The  Emperor  paused.  It  was  a  high  price,  but  the 
memory  of  Nur  Mahal's  beauty  rushed  on  him  like  a 
flood,  and  he  said:  — 

"Keep  thy  vow  and  I  shall  keep  my  bond." 

The  conspirators  knew  nothing  of  Roger's  pact  with 
the  chamberlain,  else  their  task  were  made  more  easy. 
But  there  is  in  India  a  poisonous  herb  called  dhatura, 
the  presence  of  which  cannot  be  detected  in  food  or 
drink.  Taken  in  any  considerable  quantity,  it  conveys 
[179] 


The  Great  Mogul 

sure  death,  quick  and  painless  as  the  venom  of  a  cobra; 
in  less  degree  it  induces  lethargy,  followed  by  heavy 
sleep. 

Now,  Sher  Afghan's  doubts  of  the  Emperor's  wine 
were  justified  to  this  extent,  that  it  had  been  slightly 
tinctured  with  dhatura,  in  the  belief  that  Mowbray  and 
Sainton  would  drink  heavily  during  the  midday  meal, 
and  thus  be  rendered  slow  of  thought  and  sluggish  in 
action  when  put  to  the  test  by  the  Persian's  encounter 
with  the  tiger.  Such  drugs,  thwarted  by  the  unfore 
seen,  oft  have  exactly  the  opposite  effects  to  those  in 
tended.  Their  state  of  rude  health,  and  the  exciting 
scenes  which  took  place  before  the  Emperor  played  his 
ultimate  card  and  failed,  caused  the  poison  to  stimulate 
rather  than  retard  their  faculties. 

With  night  came  reaction  and  weariness.  Never 
theless,  they  did  not  retire  to  rest  until  nearly  an  hour 
after  Sher  Afghan  left  them.  They  drank  a  little  more 
of  the  wine,  discussed  their  doubtful  position  for  the 
hundredth  time,  and  thus  unconsciously  spun  another 
strand  in  the  spider's  web  of  fate,  for  Jahangir,  whom 
fortune  so  aided,  might  have  spent  his  life  in  vain 
conjecture  ere  he  guessed  the  circumstance  which  in 
part  defeated  his  malice. 

While  the  two  talked  the  glorious  moon  of  India, 
late  risen,  sailed  slowly  across  the  blue  arc  of  the 
heavens,  and  garbed  all  things  in  silver  and  black. 
The  air  was  chill,  but  these  hardy  Britons  were  warmly 
clad,  and  they  preferred  the  cold  majesty  of  nature's 
own  lamp  to  the  evil-smelling  oil  and  smoky  wicks 
[180] 


The  Great  Mogul 

which,  at  that  period,  were  the  only  means  of  lighting 
Indian  houses. 

When,  at  last,  they  stretched  themselves  on  the 
charpoys  which,  for  greater  safety,  they  placed  side  by 
side  in  a  spacious  chamber  of  the  suite  they  occupied, 
they  did  not  undress,  but  threw  off  their  heavy  riding- 
boots,  unfastened  their  coats,  and  arranged  their  swords 
so  as  to  be  ready  to  hand  at  a  moment's  notice.  They 
knew  that  Sher  Afghan's  trusty  retainers  guarded  the 
gate  and  slept  in  each  veranda.  There  was  little  fear 
of  being  taken  by  surprise  in  the  unlikely  event  of  an 
armed  attack  being  made  during  the  night,  yet  they 
neglected  no  precautions. 

"Sleep  well,  Roger,  and  may  the  Lord  keep  thee!" 
was  Walter's  parting  word;  and  Sainton  answered 
drowsily,  for  something  more  potent  than  the  day's 
emotions  had  wearied  him :  — 

"An  He  fail  either  of  us,  lad,  naught  else  shall 
avail." 

The  bright  moon  circled  in  the  sky.  Her  beams, 
low  now  on  the  horizon,  penetrated  to  the  recesses  of 
the  room  and  fell  on  the  low  trestle-beds  on  which  they 
reposed  in  deep  slumber.  It  was  a  small  matter,  this 
nightly  course  of  the  luminary,  yet,  perchance,  in  those 
still  hours,  the  direction  of  a  stray  shaft  of  light  made 
history  in  India. 

About  two  o'clock,  when  the  tall  cypress  trees  of  the 

Garden  of  Heart's  Delight  threw  black  shadows  toward 

the  house,  a  small,  naked  man,  smeared  with  oil  lest, 

anyone  should  seize  him,  and  covered  again  with  dust 

\  181  ] 


The  Great  Mogul 

to  render  him  almost  invisible,  crawled  along  the  dark 
pathway  of  the  shadow  and  crossed  the  veranda  outside 
the  Englishmen's  room.  He  moved  with  the  deathly 
silence  of  a  snake,  passing  between  two  sleeping  Raj 
puts,  so  quickly  and  noiselessly  that  one  who  saw  him 
would  most  likely  have  rubbed  his  eyes  and  deemed 
the  flitting  vision  a  mere  figment  of  the  imagination. 

Once  inside  the  house  he  crouched  in  the  shade  of  a 
pillar,  and  waited  until  another  ghoul  joined  him  in  the 
same  manner.  These  two  were  Thugs,  murderers  by 
caste,  who  worshiped  the  pickaxes  with  which  they 
buried  their  victims.  Had  Milton  or  Dante  ever  heard 
of  such  the  abode  of  harpy-footed  furies  and  the  lowest 
circle  of  Inferno  would  alike  have  been  rendered  more 
horrific  by  a  new  demoniac  imagery.  No  man  was 
safe  from  them,  none  could  withstand  their  devilish  art. 
Sainton,  whom  not  a  score  of  Thugs  could  have  pulled 
down  in  the  open,  was  a  mere  babe  in  their  clutch  when 
he  knew  not  of  their  presence. 

For  these  fiends  never  failed.  They  were  profes 
sional  stranglers,  with  sufficient  knowledge  of  anatomy 
to  dislocate  the  neck  of  him  whom  they  had  marked 
down  as  their  prey.  Never  a  cry,  scarce  a  movement, 
would  betray  a  strong  man's  death.  Of  them  it  might 
indeed  be  truly  said :  — 

Their  fatal  hands 
No  second  stroke  intend. 

Creeping  stealthily,  they  reached  the  two  charpoys, 
and  each  squatted  at  the  back  of  his  intended  victim. 
[182] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Sainton  slept  nearer  the  veranda,  and  his  wide- 
brimmed  hat  was  lying  on  the  floor.  Throughout  his 
wanderings  he  ever  sported  a  plume  of  cock's  feathers 
and  he  still  retained  the  curious  ornament  which  served 
as  a  brooch.  It  was  lit  up  now  by  a  moonbeam,  and 
the  Thug,  whose  watchful  eyes  regarded  all  things,  saw 
what  he  took  to  be  a  headless  snake,  coiled  in  glistening 
folds  and  surrounded  by  a  ring  of  gold.  The  wretch, 
in  whose  dull  brain  glimmered  some  dim  conception  of 
a  deity,  drew  back  appalled.  Here  was  one  guarded 
by  his  tutelary  god,  the  snake,  a  snake,  too,  of  uncanny 
semblance,  reposing  in  a  precious  shrine.  He  had 
never  before  encountered  the  like.  Weird  legends, 
whispered  at  night  in  trackless  forests,  where  he  and 
his  associates  had  their  lair,  trooped  in  on  him.  He 
quaked,  and  shrank  yet  further  away,  a  fierce  savage 
tamed  by  a  mere  fossil. 

The  sibilant  chirp  of  a  grasshopper  brought  his 
fellow  Thug  to  his  side.  Glaring  eyes  and  chin  thrown 
forward  sufficed  to  indicate  the  cause  of  this  danger 
signal.  No  words  were  needed.  With  one  accord 
they  retreated.  Squirming  across  the  veranda  and 
along  the  path  of  the  lengthening  shadows  they  re 
gained  the  shelter  of  the  cypresses. 

"Brother,"  whispered  one,  "they  have  a  jadu!"* 

"Who  shall  dare  to  strike  where  the  jungle-god 
reposes!"  was  the  rejoinder. 

"  A  snake  without  a  head,  ringed  and  shining !  Saw 
one  ever  the  like  ?  " 

*  An  amulet. 
[183] 


The  Great  Mogul 

"Let  us  escape,  else  we  shall  be  slain." 

The  trees  swallowed  them,  and,  although  sought 
vengefully,  they  were  never  seen  again  by  those  whose 
behests  they  had  not  fulfilled.  .  .  .  Minutes  passed,  until 
the  stout  Kutub-ud-din,  hiding  near  the  gate  with  a 
horde  of  hirelings,  grew  impatient  that  his  vice-regal 
throne  in  Bengal  was  not  assured.  So  he  growled  an 
order  and  strode  openly  to  the  gate,  where,  in  the 
Emperor's  name,  he  demanded  of  a  wakeful  sentry 
audience  of  Sher  Afghan. 

"  My  master  sleeps,"  was  the  answer.  "  The  matter 
must  wait." 

"It  cannot  wait.  It  concerns  thy  master's  safety. 
Here  is  Pir  Muhammed  Khan,  Kotwal*  of  Agra,  who 
says  that  two  Thugs  are  within.  We  have  come  in  all 
haste  to  warn  Slier  Afghan  to  search  for  the  evil-doers." 

Now,  the  mere  name  of  the  dreaded  clan  was  enough 
lo  alarm  his  hearer,  who  well  knew  that  none  could 
guard  against  a  Thug's  deadly  intent.  Warning  his 
comrades  he  unbound  the  door,  but  showed  discretion 
in  sending  messengers  to  arouse  Sher  Afghan.  Kutub- 
ud-din,  thinking  the  Persian  and  the  Englishmen  had 
been  killed  half  an  hour  earlier,  deceived  the  guard 
still  further  by  his  earnestness.  Giving  directions  that 
some  should  watch  the  walls  without,  while  others 
searched  every  inch  of  the  gardens,  he,  followed  by  a 
strong  posse,  went  rapidly  towards  the  house.  Almost 
the  first  person  he  encountered  was  Sher  Afghan  him 
self.  The  young  nobleman,  awakened  from  sound 
*  A  functionary  akin  to  a  chief  of  police. 
[184] 


The  Great  Mogul 

sleep  by  strange  tidings,  no  sooner  recognized  his 
visitor  than  his  brow  seamed  with  anger. 

"What  folly  is  this?"  he  cried.  "Why  hast  thou 
dared  to  come  hither  with  a  rabble  at  such  an  hour, 
Kutub-ud-din  ? " 

Surprise,  disappointment,  envious  rage,  combined  to 
choke  the  would-be  viceroy,  but  he  answered,  boldly 
enough : — 

"You  should  not  requite  with  hasty  words  one  who 
thought  to  do  thee  a  service." 

"  I  am  better  without  any  service  thou  canst  render. 
Be  off,  dog,  and  tell  thy  tales  to  some  old  woman  who 
fears  them." 

Beside  himself  with  anger  and  humiliation,  Kutub- 
ud-din  raised  his  sword  threateningly.  It  was  enough. 
Sher  Afghan,  seing  naught  but  some  new  palace  treach 
ery  in  this  untimely  visit,  drew  a  dagger  and  sprang  at 
his  unwieldy  opponent  with  the  tiger-like  ferocity  for 
which  he  was  famous.  Kutub-ud-din  endeavored  to 
strike,  but,  ere  his  blow  fell,  he  was  ripped  so  terribly 
that  his  bowels  gushed  forth.  Here  was  no  vice- 
royalty  for  him,  only  the  barren  kingdom  of  the  grave. 

"  Avenge  me!"  he  yelled,  as  he  fell  in  agony,  for  your 
would-be  slayer  is  ever  resentful  of  his  own  weapons 
being  turned  against  him. 

Pir  Muhammed  Khan,  an  astute  Kashmiri,  seeing 
his  own  advancement  made  all  the  more  certain  by 
reason  of  the  failure  of  the  Emperor's  foster-brother  — 
thinking,  too,  that  Sher  Afghan  might  be  taken  at  a 
disadvantage  whilst  he  looked  down  on  his  prostrate 
[185] 


The  Great  Mogul 

foe  —  leaped  forward  and  dealt  the  Persian  a  heavy 
stroke  on  the  head  with  a  scimitar.  Sher  Afghan  turned 
and  killed  him  on  the  spot. 

It  chanced,  unhappily,  that  among  those  in  the  imme 
diate  vicinity  of  this  sudden  quarrel  the  Kotwal's  re 
tainers  far  outnumbered  the  followers  of  Sher  Afghan, 
many  of  whose  men  were  yet  asleep,  while  others  were 
scouring  the  gardens.  The  native  of  India  may  always 
be  trusted  to  avenge  his  master's  death,  so  a  certain 
dog-like  fidelity  impelled  a  score  or  more  to  attack  the 
Persian  simultaneously.  Realizing  his  danger  he  pos 
sessed  himself  of  the  fallen  Kotwal's  sword  and  fought 
furiously,  crying  loudly  for  help.  Oh,  for  a  few  light 
ning  sweeps  of  the  good  straight  blades  reposing  peace 
fully  in  their  scabbards  by  the  beds  of  his  English 
allies!  How  they  would  have  equalized  the  odds  in 
that  supreme  moment!  How  Roger  would  have  shorn 
the  heads  and  Walter  slit  the  yelling  throats  of  the 
jackals  who  yelped  around  the  undaunted  but  over 
powered  Persian! 

For  the  blood  from  the  Kotwal's  blow  poured  into 
his  eyes,  and  he  struck  blindly  if  fiercely.  Closer 
pressed  the  gang,  and,  at  last,  he  fell  to  his  knees, 
struck  down  by  a  matchlock  bullet.  He  must  have 
felt  that  his  last  hour  had  come.  Struggling  round  in 
order  to  face  towards  Mecca,  he  used  his  waning 
strength  to  pick  up  some  dust  from  the  garden  path. 
He  poured  it  over  his  head  by  way  of  ablution,  strove 
to  rise  and  renew  the  unequal  fight,  and  sank  back 
feebly.  A  spear  thrust  brought  the  end,  and  the  man 
[186] 


The  Great  Mogul 

who  had  dared  to  rival  a  prince's  love  died  in  the 
garden  to  which  the  presence  of  Nur  Mahal  had  lent 
romance  and  passion. 

Roger,  whom  the  clash  of  steel  might  have  roused 
from  the  tomb,  stirred  uneasily  in  his  sleep  when  the 
first  sounds  of  the  fight  smote  his  unconscious  ears. 
The  shot  waked  him,  though  not  to  thorough  compre 
hension,  so  utterly  possessed  was  he  with  drowsiness. 

Then  a  light  flashed  in  the  room,  and  he  saw  a 
beautiful  woman  standing  in  an  inner  doorway,  a 
woman  whose  exquisite  face  was  white  and  tense  as  she 
held  aloft  a  lamp  and  cried :  — 

"  Why  do  ye  tarry  here  when  my  husband  is  fighting 
for  his  life  and  for  yours  ?  " 

Now  he  was  wide  awake.  It  was  Nur  Mahal,  un 
veiled  and  robed  all  in  white,  who  stood  there  and  spoke 
so  vehemently. 

Up  he  sprang,  and  roused  Mowbray  with  his  mighty 
grip.  The  new  conflict  raging  over  Sher  Afghan's  body 
was  music  in  his  ears,  for  several  Rajputs  had  come, 
too  late,  to  their  master's  assistance. 

"  God  in  heaven,  lad ! "  he  roared,  "  here's  a  fray  in 
full  blast  and  we  snoring.  Have  at  them,  Walter! 
The  pack  is  on  us!" 

His  words,  no  less  than  a  vigorous  shaking,  awoke  his 
companion. 

"Oh,  come  speedily!"  wailed  Nur  Mahal  again. 
"I  know  not  what  is  happening,  but  I  heard  my 
husband's  voice  calling  for  aid." 

They  needed  no  further  bidding,  though  their  eyes 
[187] 


The  Great  Mogul 

were  strangely  heavy  and  their  bodies  relaxed.  Once 
they  were  out  in  the  night  air  and  running  toward  the 
din  of  voices  the  stupor  passed.  Yet,  when  they 
reached  the  main  alley,  where  Sher  Afghan  lay  dead, 
they  knew  not  whom  to  strike  nor  whom  to  spare,  so 
intermixed  were  the  combatants  and  so  confused  the 
riot  of  ringing  simitars,  of  hoarse  shouts,  of  agonized 
appeals  for  mercy. 

But  Nur  Mahal,  quicker  than  they  to  distinguish 
between  native  and  native,  cried  as  she  ran  with  them : — 

"My  husband's  men  wear  white  turbans.  All  the 
others  are  strangers." 

They  needed  no  further  instruction.  When  they 
saw  a  bare  poll,  a  skull  cap,  or  a  dark  turban,  they  hit 
it,  and  the  battle,  equal  before,  soon  became  one  sided. 
The  presence  of  Roger  alone  determined  the  fight 
instantly.  Kutub-ud-din  and  the  Kotwal  had  assured 
their  supporters  that  the  Feringhis  were  dead,  and 
hinted,  in  vague  terms,  that  the  looting  of  the  Diwan's 
house  would  not  be  too  strictly  inquired  into  if  the 
"search"  for  the  Thugs  were  resisted. 

But  here  was  the  terrific  mass  of  the  giant  looming 
through  the  night,  and  here  was  his  sword  sweeping  a 
six-foot  swath  in  front  of  him.  No  man  who  saw  him 
waited  for  closer  proof  of  his  existence.  Soon  the 
Garden  of  Heart's  Delight  was  emptied  of  the  gang 
save  those  who  were  dead  or  too  badly  injured  to  crawl. 
Then  lights  were  brought. 

Nur  Mahal  was  the  first  to  find  her  husband's  body. 
She  threw  herself  by  his  side  in  a  gust  of  tears. 
[188] 


"  Alas ! "  she  sobbed,  "  they  have  slain  him !  It  is  my 
fault,  O  prince  of  men !  What  evil  fate  made  thee  wed 
me,  Sher  Afghan  ?  I  vow  to  Allah,  though  I  could  not 
love  thee  living,  I  shall  mourn  thee  dead.  Jahangir, 
if  thou  hast  done  this  thing,  bitterly  shalt  thou  rue  it! 
Oh,  my  husband,  my  husband,  thou  art  fallen  because 
of  an  unworthy  woman ! " 

It  was  with  difficulty  that  Walter  could  persuade  her 
to  leave  the  corpse  of  the  dead  hero.  Tears  choked 
her  voice,  and  her  self-reproach  was  heartrending, 
inasmuch  as  it  was  quite  undeserved.  The  distraught 
girl  could  not  be  blamed  because  a  marriage  planned 
for  state  reasons  had  not  prospered,  and  even  Mow- 
bray,  who  was  prejudiced  against  her,  knew  quite  well 
that  she  was  no  party  to  this  night  attack  against  her 
father's  house. 

Finally,  he  led  her  to  the  trembling  serving-women 
who  cowered  within,  and  then  addressed  himself  to  an 
inquiry  into  all  that  had  taken  place. 

Piece  by  piece,  the  tangle  resolved  itself.  At  first, 
the  references  of  the  watchman  at  the  gate,  supported 
by  certain  wounded  prisoners  who  gave  testimony  to 
the  presence  of  Thugs  in  the  garden,  were  puzzling. 
But  a  Rajput,  who  knew  the  ways  of  these  human 
gnomes,  found  a  smear  of  oil  and  dust  against  the  wall 
of  the  sahibs'  bedroom,  and  even  traced  their  tracks, 
to  some  extent,  by  similar  marks  on  the  floor.  None 
could  guess  the  reason  of  the  Thugs'  failure,  which  was 
unprecedented,  but  the  remainder  of  the  sordid  story 
was  legible  enough. 

[189] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Two  hours  before  dawn,  Walter  sent  word  to  Nur 
Mahal  that  he  wished  to  consult  her.  She  came  in 
stantly,  and  he  noted,  to  his  surprise,  that  she  was 
garbed  as  for  a  journey. 

He  began  to  tell  her  what  he  had  discovered,  but 
soon  she  interrupted  him. 

"  I  know  all  that,  and  more,"  she  said.  "  I  can  even 
tell  you  what  will  be  done  to-morrow.  Jahangir  will 
repudiate  the  deed,  and  execute  those  concerned  in  it 
whom  he  can  lay  hands  on.  But  you  and  I  are  doomed. 
With  Sher  Afghan  dead,  who  shall  uphold  us  ?  We 
have  but  one  course  open.  We  must  fly,  if  we  would 
save  our  lives.  Let  us  go  now,  ere  daybreak,  and  ride 
to  Burdwan.  Once  there,  I  can  frame  plans  for  ven 
geance,  whilst  you  shall  go  to  Calcutta,  not  unre 
warded." 

The  firmness  of  her  tone  astounded  Mowbray  as 
greatly  as  the  nature  of  her  proposal.  When  he  came 
to  seek  Roger's  advice  he  found  that  his  friend  had 
swung  round  to  the  view  that  it  was  hopeless  now  to 
seek  redress  from  the  Emperor.  The  number  and 
valor  of  Sher  Afghan's  retainers  gave  some  promise  of 
security,  and,  once  away  from  the  capital,  there  was  a 
chance  of  escape. 

So  Nur  Mahal  was  told  that  they  would  adopt  her 
counsel,  and  it  was  wonderful  to  see  how  a  woman,  in 
that  hour  of  distress  and  danger,  imposed  her  will  on 
every  man  she  encountered. 

It  was  Nur  Mahal  who  instructed  certain  servants  of 
her  father's  to  see  to  the  embalming  of  her  husband's 
[190J 


body  and  its  safe  conveyance  to  Burdwan.  It  was  she 
who  sent  couriers  to  start  the  caravan  of  the  Feringhis 
on  a  false  trail  back  to  Delhi.  It  was  she  who  arranged 
the  details  of  the  first  march,  forgetting  nothing,  but 
correcting  even  the  most  experienced  of  Sher  Afghan's 
lieutenants  when  he  declared  impossible  that  which  she 
said  was  possible. 

And  finally,  it  was  Nur  Mahal  who,  after  a  last  look 
at  the  face  of  him  whom  she  revered  more  in  death  than 
in  life,  rode  out  again  into  the  darkness,  from  the 
Garden  of  Heart's  Delight.  But,  this  time,  Walter 
Mowbray  and  Roger  Sainton  rode  with  her,  and  those 
three,  as  it  happened,  held  the  future  of  India  in  the 
hollows  of  their  hands. 


[191] 


CHAPTER  XII 

"Who   ever   loved   that   loved   not   at  first   sight?" 
Marlowe,  "Hero  and  Leander." 

OF  all  the  perils  encountered  by  Walter  Mowbray 
since  he  left  his  home  in  Wensleydale,  there  was  none 
so  impalpable,  and  therefore  none  so  mortal,  as  the 
daily  companionship  of  Nur  Mahal.  She  used  no 
wiles,  practised  no  arts  —  her  subtle  mesmerism  was 
the  unseen  power  of  the  lodestone.  At  first,  there  never 
was  woman  more  retiring.  Mowbray  and  Sainton 
were  seldom  absent  from  her  side;  nevertheless,  she 
spoke  only  when  the  exigencies  of  the  journey  demanded 
a  few  simple  words.  The  horror  of  Sher  Afghan's 
death  seemed  to  weigh  on  her  heart,  and  her  natural 
vivacity  was  almost  wholly  eclipsed.  Yet  her  face 
would  kindle  with  a  rare  smile  when  acknowledging 
some  trivial  act,  and  the  fragrance  of  her  presence 
might  be  likened  to  the  scent  of  roses  in  a  garden  by 
night.  It  was  there,  ravishing  the  very  air,  whilst  its 
source  remained  invisible.  Though  she  rode  fast  dur 
ing  many  a  weary  hour,  and  bore  without  a  murmur 
hardships  under  which  her  more  robust  waiting  women 
sank,  one  by  one,  until  five  out  of  eight  were  perforce 
left  to  recuperate  in  various  small  towns  passed  on  the 
way,  she  never  lost  that  wondrous  sense  of  delightful 
[192] 


The  Great  Mogul 

feminity  which  constituted  her  chief  attraction  and  her 
most  dangerous  allurement. 

In  guiding,  counselling,  controlling,  her  intellect  was 
crystal  ice,  but  let  any  man  render  her  a  service,  let  him 
help  her  to  dismount  or  bring  her  a  cup  of  water,  and, 
with  the  touch  of  her  hand,  the  flash  of  her  deep  violet 
eyes,  she  thrilled  him  to  the  core.  It  was  natural  that 
Walter  should  be  her  attendant  cavalier  on  many  such 
occasions,  a  fact  greatly  to  be  regretted  in  the  interests 
of  Nellie  Roe,  whose  saucy  blue  eyes  and  golden  locks 
were  too  far  away  to  deaden  completely  the  effect  of 
Nur  Mahal's  bewitching  personality.  And,  truth  to 
tell,  England  had  a  somewhat  shadowy  aspect  in  those 
days.  After  three  years  of  sojourn  in  the  East,  here 
were  Mowbray  and  his  faithful  companion  no  better 
off  than  when  they  rode  along  the  North  Road  into 
London  one  fair  summer's  afternoon  to  seek  their 
fortunes.  Then  they  had  their  swords,  some  equip 
ment,  and  a  few  crowns  in  their  pockets.  Their  case 
was  even  worse  in  this  semi-barbarous  land,  for  their 
worldly  goods  were  not  enhanced,  while  they  them 
selves  were  fugitives  from  the  spleen  of  a  vengeful 
tyrant ! 

Not  even  Roger  was  proof  against  the  magic  of  Nur 
Mahal's  smile.  At  the  close  of  the  third  march,  when 
their  leg- weary  horses  were  unable  to  reach  the  hamlet 
of  Mainpura,  the  intended  goal  of  the  night,  they 
camped  under  a  tope  of  trees,  lit  fires,  and  proceeded 
to  make  themselves  as  comfortable  as  circumstances 
permitted  until  the  dawn.  Nur  Mahal,  having  taken 
[193] 


The  Great  Mogul 

leave  of  them  with  her  accustomed  grace,  rested  in  a 
small  tent  which  was  carried  by  a  pack  animal.  Mow- 
bray  and  Sainton  sat  on  saddles  piled  near  a  fire,  and 
Roger  showed  the  trend  of  his  thoughts  by  asking :  — 

"  Is  it  in  your  mind,  Walter,  to  tarry  long  in  Burdwan 
after  we  have  brought  my  lady  thither?" 

"  How  can  I  answer  ?  We  are  but  a  degree  removed 
from  beggars.  If  she  gives  us  the  wherewithal  to 
journey  speedily  to  Calcutta,  why  should  we  remain  at 
Burdwan  ?  " 

"You  parry  one  question  with  another.  I  may  be 
much  mistaken,  yet  I  doubt  if  my  lady  sought  our 
escort  for  the  sake  of  the  journey." 

Mowbray,  who  was  striving  to  burnish  a  rusted  bit, 
looked  sharply  at  his  big  comrade,  whose  broad  red 
face,  propped  on  his  hands,  was  clearly  revealed  by  the 
dancing  flames. 

"Out  with  it,  Roger,"  he  cried.  "Thou  hast  not 
been  so  chary  of  thy  words  for  many  a  year." 

"Well,  to  be  plain,"  said  the  other,  "I  think  yon 
bonny  head  is  well  dowered  wi'  brains.  Here  is  a  land 
where  wit,  wedded  to  a  good  sword,  can  win  its  way. 
Were  you  and  she  married  —  nay,  jump  not  in  that 
fashion,  like  a  trout  on  a  hook,  else  I  may  deem  the 
fly  well  thrown  —  were  you  and  she  married,  I  say,  she 
is  just  a  likely  sort  of  quean  to  carve  out  a  kingdom  for 
herself.  Here  you  have  Mahmouds,  Rajputs,  Hindu 
stanis,  Bengalis,  and  the  Lord  knows  what  hotch-potch 
of  warring  folk,  each  at  variance  with  the  other,  and 
all  united  against  a  galling  yoke  such  as  may  fairly  be 
[194] 


The  Great  Mogul 

expected  from  Jahangir!  Why,  man,  were  you  lord 
of  Burdwan  and  husband  of  Nur  Mahal,  you  might 
run  through  India  like  a  red  hot  cinder  through  a  tub 
of  butter." 

Mowbray  breathed  hard  on  the  steel  in  his  hands. 

"Roger,"  he  said,  "had  you  not  eaten  half  a  kid  an 
hour  gone  I  would  have  dosed  you  for  a  fever." 

"  Aye,  aye,  make  a  jibe  of  it,  but  there's  many  a  true 
word  spoken  in  jest.  If  King  Cophetua  could  woo  a 
beggar-maid,  the  devil  seize  me  if  it  be  not  more  likely 
that  the  beauty  tucked  up  under  yonder  canvas  should 
make  pace  with  a  fine  swaggering  blade  like  thyself." 

"  Thou  art  too  modest,  Roger.  If  she  wants  a  ham 
mer  wherewith  to  beat  out  an  empire,  where  could  she 
find  a  mallet  to  equal  thee  ?  And  is  it  not  reasonable 
to  suppose,  if  such  were  her  intent,  she  would  have 
furthered  the  aims  of  our  poor  friend,  Sher  Afghan  ? 
He  was  of  her  own  people,  and  would  soon  find  a 
backing." 

"  It  seems  that  any  man  will  suit  her  needs  save  the 
one  she  fancies,"  said  Roger  drily,  and,  to  Mowbray's 
exceeding  relief,  he  pursued  the  matter  no  further. 

Yet  the  notion  throve  on  certain  doubts  which  it 
must  have  found  imbedded  in  Walter's  own  mind,  and, 
next  day,  with  memories  of  Nellie  Roe  very  tender  in 
his  heart,  now  that  all  chance  of  wedding  her  was  lost 
in  gloom,  he  avoided  Nur  Mahal  as  thoroughly  as 
politeness  would  admit.  She  gave  no  sign  of  discon 
tent,  but  suffered  him  to  go  his  new  gait  in  silence. 
Once,  indeed,  when  he  made  to  help  her  onto  her  Arab 
[195] 


The  Great  Mogul 

horse,  she  sprang  to  the  saddle  ere  he  could  approach, 
and,  at  night,  when  she  parted  from  him  and  Roger 
with  a  few  pleasant  words,  a  fold  of  her  veil  screened 
her  face. 

It  were  idle  to  pretend  that  Mowbray  was  in  his 
usual  happy  vein  during  this  part  of  the  journey,  and 
when,  at  the  next  evening's  halt,  Nur  Mahal  signified 
that  after  Sainton  and  he  had  eaten  she  would  be  glad 
of  some  conversation  with  them,  he  was,  if  not  elated, 
certainly  much  more  cheerful. 

She  received  them  with  smiling  gravity,  and  bade 
them  be  seated  on  stools  which  her  servants  had  pro 
cured  in  the  village  where  their  little  camp  was  pitched. 
She  herself  reclined  on  a  number  of  furs  which  served 
as  a  couch  when  she  slept.  They  noticed  that  her 
dress,  which,  by  some  marvel,  was  white  and  fresh,  was 
devoid  of  ornament.  Indian  widows  wear  purple,  but 
the  exigencies  of  the  hour  might  well  excuse  this  neglect 
of  custom,  and,  for  that  matter,  Nur  Mahal  was  not 
one  to  pay  any  heed  to  such  ordinances. 

"I  have  fancied,"  she  said,  addressing  Roger,  "that 
you  are  not  wholly  satisfied  with  this  present  journey, 
Sain  ton  -sahib. " 

Now,  Roger  was  so  taken  aback  by  this  side  stroke 
that  he  blurted  out :  — 

"In  the  name  of  your  excellent  prophet,  Princess, 
why  do  you  charge  this  to  me?" 

She  flashed  her  star-like  eyes  on  Mowbray. ' 

"Perhaps  I  am  mistaken.  Is  it  you,  Mowbray- 
sahib,  who  would  gladly  be  quit  of  my  poor  company  ?  " 
[196] 


The  Great  Mogul 

The  attack  on  Roger  had  prepared  him,  as,  indeed, 
Nur  Mahal  may  have  meant  that  it  should. 

"  Your  Highness,"  he  said,  "  has  some  good  motive  in 
stating  a  belief  which  would  otherwise  be  incredible. 
What  is  it?" 

She  sighed,  and  answered  not  for  a  moment.  Maybe 
she  wished  Walter  had  been  more  confused  and,  by 
consequence,  more  lover-like.  But,  when  she  spoke, 
her  sweet  voice  was  well  controlled.  The  affair  was 
of  slight  import  from  all  the  index  that  her  manner 
gave. 

"A  woman's  mind  is  oft  like  a  smooth  lake,"  she 
said.  "It  mirrors  that  which  it  sees,  but  a  little  puff 
of  wind  will  distort  the  image  into  some  quaint  conceit. 
Let  that  pass.  My  object  in  seeking  your  presence  has 
naught  to  do  with  idle  thoughts.  To-morrow,  an  hour 
after  sunrise,  we  reach  that  point  on  the  road  whence 
one  track  leads  to  the  Ganges,  and  to  Calcutta,  and 
the  other  to  Burdwan.  It  will,  I  do  not  doubt,  be 
better  for  you  to  make  your  way  to  the  river,  and 
leave  me  and  my  wretched  fortunes  to  the  hazard 
which  the  future  has  in  store.  I  am  greatly  beholden 
to  you  for  all  that  you  have  done  in  the  past,  and  it 
grieves  me  sorely  that  this  journey,  taken  so  unex 
pectedly,  leaves  me  so  short  of  money  that  I  can 
only  offer  you  a  sum  which  is  barely  sufficient  for 
the  expenses  of  the  voyage  down  the  Ganges.  But  I 
have  in  my  possession  a  goodly  store  of  jewels,  and 
in  Calcutta,  or  in  your  own  country,  there  are  mer 
chants  who  will  buy  them  at  a  fair  price.  Take  them, 
[197] 


The  Great  Mogul 

and  be  not  angered  with  me,  for  I  would  not  have  you 
go  away  thinking  that  my  acquaintance  had  brought 
you  naught  but  ill  luck." 

From  beneath  a  fold  of  her  sari  she  produced  a  small 
cedar  wood  box  which  she  offered  to  Walter.  He 
sprang  to  his  feet,  with  face  aflame. 

"  I  may  be  only  a  poor  merchant,  Princess,"  he  cried, 
"  but  I  have  yet  to  learn  from  your  own  lips  what  word 
or  deed  of  mine  leads  you  to  believe  that  I  would  rob 
a  woman  of  her  diamonds." 

"  Ohe,"  she  wailed,  with  a  very  pleasing  pout,  "  how 
have  I  offended  your  lordship,  and  who  talks  of  robbery 
where  a  free  gift  is  intended  ?  Tell  me,  you  whom  they 
call  Hathi-sahib,  see  you  aught  amiss  in  taking  the  only 
valuable  articles  I  can  presently  bestow?" 

"Please  God!"  said  Roger,  "we  shall  set  you  and 
your  gems  safe  within  the  walls  of  Burdwan  ere  we  turn 
our  faces  towards  Calcutta,  and  that  is  all  my  friend 
Walter  meant  by  his  outburst." 

Her  eyes  fell  until  the  long  lashes  swept  the  peach 
bloom  of  her  cheeks,  for  the  physical  difficulties  of  the 
journey,  instead  of  exhausting  her,  had  added  to  her 
beauty  by  tinting  with  rose  the  lily  white  of  her  com 
plexion. 

"  Is  that  so  ?  "  she  murmured,  and  Walter,  who  knew 
that  she  questioned  him,  said  instantly :  — 

"No  other  thought  entered  our  minds." 

"It  is  well.  I  shall  retain  my  trinkets  a  little  while 
longer,  it  seems." 

She  laughed  quietly,  with  a  note  of  girlish  happiness 
[198] 


The  Great  Mogul 

in  her  mirth  that  he  had  not  caught  since  the  day  of 
their  first  meeting  in  the  Garden  of  Heart's  Delight. 

"Now  that  you  have  repaired  my  imagined  loss," 
she  said,  "will  you  not  be  seated  again,  and  tell  me 
something  of  your  country.  I  have  heard  that  women 
there  differ  greatly  from  us  in  India.  Are  they  very 
pretty  ?  Do  they  grow  tall,  like  Sainton-sahib  ?  " 

Here  was  a  topic  from  which  their  talk  might  branch 
in  any  direction.  Soon  Walter  was  telling  her  of  his 
mother,  of  life  in  London  and  the  North,  while  a 
chance  reference  to  his  father  led  up  to  the  story  of 
Dom  Geronimo's  crime,  and  the  implacable  hatred  he 
bore  towards  even  the  son  of  his  victim. 

Nur  Mahal  followed  the  references  to  the  Jesuit  with 
close  interest.  When  Mowbray  would  have  passed  to 
some  other  subject  she  interrupted  him,  and  clapped 
her  hands  as  a  signal  to  one  of  her  women,  whom  she 
bade  summon  Jai  Singh,  the  Rajput  chief  of  her  guard. 

"What  was  the  story  you  heard  on  the  road  as  we 
returned  to  Agra  ?  "  she  asked  when  the  rissaldar  stood 
before  her.  "It  dealt  with  certain  Christian  priests 
who  dwell  in  that  city,  and  with  others  at  Hughli,  if  I 
mistake  not." 

"A  dervish,  who  sought  some  grain,  maharani,  told 
us  that  Jahangir  was  privately  minded  to  seize  all  the 
black  robes  because  they  encouraged  the  Portuguese 
traders  to  greater  boldness.  He  ever  counseled  the 
great  Akbar  to  that  effect,  but  the  Emperor,  his  father, 
was  too  tolerant  towards  the  Feringhis  to  listen  to  him. 
Now,  said  the  dervish,  Jahangir  would  make  all  the 
[199] 


The  Great  Mogul 

men  good  Mahomedans  and  send  their  young  women 
to  the  zenana." 

"You  hear,"  she  said,  as  Jai  Singh  saluted  and 
disappeared.  "Jahangir  is  opposed  to  strangers,  and 
it  is  quite  probable  he  harbors  some  such  project,  which 
he  has  discoursed  with  the  moullahs,  being  anxious  to 
win  their  favor." 

"But  the  crow  was  standing  by  his  side  when  we 
went  to  the  palace,"  put  in  Roger. 

4  That  may  well  be.  If  this  man  spoke  evil  against 
you,  Jahangir  would  listen,  though  his  own  purpose 
remained  unchanged.  I  had  this  in  my  mind  when 
you  spoke  of  going  to  Calcutta." 

"When  you  spoke  of  sending  us  thither  to-morrow, 
you  mean,"  cried  Walter. 

"I  should  have  warned  you,"  she  replied,  but  her 
hearers  saw  another  purpose  behind  her  words,  because 
anything  in  the  shape  of  a  disturbance  on  the  Hughli 
rendered  it  very  necessary  that  they  should  tarry  at 
Burdwan  and  avoid  the  river  route  until  the  trouble 
was  ended. 

Again,  a  sense  of  distrust  welled  up  in  Mowbray's 
breast,  but  Nur  Mahal's  soft  voice  allayed  it. 

"  It  must  not  be  forgotten,"  she  said,  "  that  affairs  at 
Agra  may  cause  the  King  to  forego  the  folly  he  con 
templates.  Khusrow,  his  brother,  has  many  adherents, 
and  if  Jahangir,  as  I  am  told  is  true,  devotes  his  waking 
hours  to  wine  and  dissolute  companions,  he  shall  not 
long  retain  the  throne  his  father  built  so  solidly." 

Both  men  recalled  Sher  Afghan's  words.  How 
[200] 


The  Great  Mogul 

strange  it  was  that  his  wife,  who  had  not  quitted  the 
walls  of  Dilkusha  during  the  few  hours  of  her  recent 
tenancy,  should  be  so  well  informed  as  to  events  in  the 
palace. 

Walter  laughed. 

"  If  I  could  not  see  your  face  and  hear  your  voice," 
he  cried,  "  'twere  easy  to  believe  it  was  the  Diwan,  and 
not  his  incomparable  daughter,  who  spoke  with  such 
wisdom." 

"  Incomparable!  It  is  an  idle  word.  Who  is  incom 
parable?  Not  I.  Assuredly  there  is  a  maid  beyond 
the  sea  wThose  attractions  far  outweigh  mine  in  your 
estimation,  Mowbray-sahib.  Nay,  seek  not  for  some 
adroit  phrase  to  flatter  and  mislead.  Men  tell  me  I  am 
beautiful,  but  there  never  yet  was  rose  in  a  garden  which 
the  next  south  wind  did  not  help  to  destroy  while 
fanning  its  budding  rival  into  greater  charm." 

She  spoke  with  a  vehemence  that  caused  Roger,  who 
followed  her  poetic  Persian  simile  with  difficulty,  to 
believe  that  Walter  had  said  something  to  vex  her. 

"  What  ails  thy  tongue  to-night,  lad  ? "  he  cried  in 
English.  "It  is  not  wont  to  rasp  so  harshly  on  such 
fair  substance." 

"  You  disturb  my  comrade,"  said  Mowbray,  glancing 
covertly  into  the  girl's  eyes.  "He  thinks  I  have 
offended  you." 

She  flung  a  quick  glance  at  Sainton,  and  laughed. 

Some  pleasant  quip  was  on  her  lips,  but,  in  that  instant, 

the  hoof -beats  of  horses,  hard  ridden,  came  to  their 

ears.     In  the  present  state  of  the  fugitives,  the  sound 

[201] 


was  ominous.  At  once  the  men  were  on  their  feet. 
Mowbray  bade  Nur  Mahal  retire  to  her  tent,  an  order 
which  she  was  slow  to  obey,  and  then  betook  himself 
to  the  disposal  of  his  small  force,  lest,  perchance,  the 
distant  galloping  signaled  the  approach  of  pursuers. 
The  night  was  dark  but  clear,  the  only  light  being  that 
of  the  stars,  and  it  was  strange  indeed  that  any  party 
of  horse  should  ride  with  such  speed  over  a  broken 
road. 

It  was  essential  that  the  nature  of  the  cavalcade 
should  be  ascertained  before  it  was  permitted  to  come 
too  close.  Flight  was  not  to  be  thought  of,  owing  to 
the  condition  of  the  horses.  If  the  newcomers  were 
the  Emperor's  minions  the  only  way  to  avoid  capture 
was  to  show  a  bold  front  and  strike  first. 

Rissalder  Jai  Singh  was  ordered  to  mount  and  ride 
forward  with  two  sowars  to  bring  the  party  to  a  halt. 
If  they  were  strangers,  of  peaceable  intent,  he  would 
courteously  request  them  to  pass,  after  explaining  the 
necessity  of  the  precautions  taken.  Were  they  the 
King's  men,  he  was  to  demand  a  parley  with  their 
leader,  failing  which,  he  and  his  companions  must  turn 
and  ride  at  top  speed  towards  the  village,  giving  the 
defending  force,  stationed  under  a  clump  of  trees  on 
both  sides  of  the  road,  an  opportunity  to  ambush  the 
enemy  on  both  flanks. 

It  was  a  hasty  scheme,  evolved  so  hurriedly  that  Jai 

Singh  cantered  off  while  as  yet  the  invisible  horsemen 

were  quarter  of  a  mile  away.     Mowbray  and  Sainton, 

adjusting  their  sword-belts,  stood  on  the  road  between 

[202] 


The  Great  Mogul 

their  men  and  listened  for  the  first  sounds  which  should 
indicate  the  reception  given  to  the  rissalder. 

Suddenly  Roger  said:  "Lest  harm  should  befall 
Nur  Mahal,  is  it  not  better  that  you  should  take  a 
couple  of  horses  and  lead  her  to  some  point  removed 
from  the  track?  Then,  if  this  force  overwhelms  us, 
you  have  a  chance  of  escape,  whereas  the  presence  of 
one  sword  more  or  less  will  make  slight  difference  to  the 
odds." 

"  Did  I  think  you  meant  what  you  have  said,  you  and 
I  should  quarrel,"  retorted  Walter. 

"  Sooner  would  my  right  hand  quarrel  with  the  left. 
Yet  my  counsel  is  good.  Whilst  one  of  us  lives  she  is 
not  wholly  bereft,  and  you  are  the  lad  of  her  choosing. 
I'  faith,  if  she  showed  me  such  preference,  I'd  take  a 
similar  offer  from  thee." 

"  You  are  not  wont  to  anticipate  disaster,  Roger,  nor 
yet  to  frame  such  clumsy  excuse." 

"  I  have  never  before  been  so  mixed  up  with  a  woman. 
Argue  not,  Walter,  but  away  with  her.  I'll  strike  more 
freely  if  I  ken  you  are  safe.  It  is  good  generalship,  too. 
She  is  the  treasure  they  seek,  and  she  should  not  be 
left  to  the  hazard  of  a  rough-and-tumble  in  the  dark." 

"Then  let  her  ride  alone  if  she  be  so  minded.  We 
have  fought  side  by  side  too  often,  Roger,  that  we  should 
be  separated  now." 

Sainton's  huge  hand  reached  out  in  the  gloom  and 
gripped  his  comrade's  shoulder. 

"Gad,  Walter,"  he  growled,  "thou  art  tough  oak. 
Least  said  is  soonest  mended,  but  the  notion  jumbles 
[203] 


The  Great  Mogul 

in  my  thick  head  that  Nur  Mahal  will  surely  be  a 
quean,  and  that  thou  art  fated  to  help  in  her  crowning. 
Hark!  What  now?" 

They  heard  Jai  Singh's  loud  challenge,  followed  by 
the  confused  halting  of  a  large  body  of  horse.  The 
clang  of  arms  and  the  champing  of  bits  came  to  them 
plainly.  The  distance  was  too  great  to  distinguish 
voices  at  an  ordinary  pitch,  but  it  was  reasonable  to 
suppose  that  Jai  Singh  was  conversing  with  some  one 
in  authority. 

They  were  not  kept  long  in  suspense.  A  few  horse 
men  advanced  slowly,  Jai  Singh  at  their  head. 

"Sahiba!"  he  called,  when  close  at  hand,  "there  is 
one  here  who  would  converse  with  your  Lordships  in 
privacy." 

Although  the  fealty  of  a  Rajput  to  his  salt  can  never 
be  doubted,  there  was  a  chance  that  Jai  Singh  might 
have  been  deluded  into  an  exhibition  of  false  confidence. 
Walter,  therefore,  ordered  his  little  force  to  march  close 
behind  Roger  and  himself,  but  when  he  saw  that  Jai 
Singh  and  the  two  sowars  were  accompanied  by  only 
one  man  he  knew  that  his  suspicions  were  not  well 
founded. 

The  stranger  was  the  Chief  Eunuch  of  Jahangir's 
court,  and  the  mere  presence  of  such  a  functionary 
betrayed  the  object  of  the  pursuit. 
He  dismounted  and  salaamed  deeply. 
"  Praised  be  the  name  of  Allah  that  this  undertaking 
nears  its  close!"  he  cried,  his  queer,  cracked  voice 
rising  and  falling  in  irregular  falsetto.     "Seldom  have 
[204] 


The  Great  Mogul 

men  and  never  has  a  woman  ridden  so  fast  and  far 
during  so  many  days.  Had  not  those  whom  you  left 
on  the  way  assured  me  that  you  were  truly  before  me, 
I  had  returned  to  Agra  long  since,  though  my  head 
might  have  paid  the  forfeit  of  a  fruitless  errand." 

The  Chief  Eunuch,  important  official  though  he  was, 
commanded  little  respect  from  other  men.  Even  the 
manner  of  Jai  Singh's  announcement  of  his  presence 
betrayed  the  contempt  with  which  creatures  of  his  type 
were  held.  So  Walter  said,  sternly  enough:  — 

"  The  length  of  the  journey  might  well  serve  to  con 
dense  thy  speech.  Hast  thou  brought  some  message 
from  the  Emperor?  If  so,  out  with  it." 

"Honored  one,  I  am  charged  to  escort  the  Princess 
Nur  Mahal  back  to  Agra,  where,  sayeth  my  Lord,  the 
King,  she  can  dwell  in  peace  and  content  in  her  father's 
house." 

"  What  sayeth  the  capon  ? "  demanded  Roger,  who 

caught  the  peremptory  tone  of  the  man's  words  and 

•was  minded  to  clout  him,  for  such  a  menial  is  apt  to 

become   unconsciously    insolent   when   he   carries   his 

master's  commands. 

Mowbray's  restraining  hand  warned  Roger  not  to 
interfere. 

"  Is  that  all  ? "  he  said  with  ominous  calm. 

"  No,  protector  of  the  poor.  The  Emperor  Jahangir 
sends  his  compliments  to  you  and  to  the  Hathi-sahib. 
He  says  that  if  you  return  with  the  Princess  you  shall 
be  received  with  all  honor,  paid  in  full,  and  forwarded, 
at  his  proper  charge,  to  Ajmere  on  the  road  to  Bombay." 
[205] 


The  Great  Mogul 

"  And  if  we  refuse  the  King's  offer  ?  " 

"Why  should  you  refuse,  sahib?  My  Lord,  the 
King,  is  wroth  that  any  should  dare  act  as  did  that 
foolish  man,  Kutub-ud-din.  All  those  who  took  part 
in  the  attack  on  Sher  Afghan  have  been  impaled  alive 
on  the  road  leading  from  Dilkusha  to  the  bridge  of 
boats.  I  and  my  companions  rode  between  their 
writhing  bodies  as  we  quitted  Agra." 

"It  were  foolish  to  distrust  so  just  a  monarch,  yet 
what  say  you  if  we  choose  rather  to  proceed  to  Burd- 
wan?" 

The  Chief  Eunuch  suddenly  became  very  humble. 

"  I  am  only  an  envoy,"  he  said.  "  Behind,  there  are 
two  hundred  soldiers,  mounted  on  the  best  horses  in 
the  King's  stables  and  commanded  by  a  valiant  officer. 
Behind  them,  there  is  the  might  of  the  Empire.  I  pray 
you  believe  that  my  Lord,  Jahangir,  means  to  do  well 
by  you." 

There  is  an  Indian  story  of  a  crocodile  inviting  a 
lamb  to  inspect  his  beautiful  teeth  as  he  lay  with  his 
mouth  open,  but  the  messenger's  fair  words  placed 
Walter  in  a  quandary.  Obviously,  he  must  consult  Nur 
Mahal  ere  he  returned  the  answer  which  was  ready 
enough  on  his  lips,  for  he  thought  that  the  two  hundred, 
however  valiant  their  officer,  would  never  dare  to 
attack  half  the  number  of  stalwart  Rajputs  trained  by 
Sher  Afghan,  especially  when  they  knew  that  they 
must  also  encounter  the  terrible  Man-Elephant.  As 
for  the  King's  armies,  Burdwan  was  a  far  cry. 

"  Bide  you  here,  Roger,"  he  muttered  shortly.  "  Keep 
[206] 


"  If  we  go  to  Burdwan  are  you  content  to  abide  there  ? 


The  Great  Mogul 

things  as  they  are  until  I  return.  I  go  to  seek  Nur 
Mahal." 

A  cloaked  woman,  who  had  passed  silently  between 
the  line  of  soldiers  on  the  road,  and  who  heard  each 
word  of  the  dialogue,  evidently  guessed  what  Walter 
said,  though  he  used  English  to  Sainton.  She  darted 
forward  now  and  clasped  his  arm.  Even  before  she 
spoke  he  knew  who  it  was,  for  the  mere  touch  of  her 
fingers  thrilled  him. 

"I  am  here!"  she  whispered.  "Let  us  draw  apart. 
I  have  that  to  say  which  is  best  said  now.  One  of  us 
two  must  answer  that  man,  and  we  gain  naught  by 
delay." 

By  the  roadside  grew  a  field  of  millet,  the  sparse  crop 
of  some  poor  ryot  in  the  village  who  cared  little  for 
kings  or  courts.  He  would  grin  with  amaze  if  told  that 
his  small  holding  formed  the  council-chamber  in  which 
was  settled  the  affairs  of  a  nation.  Yet  it  was  so  in 
very  truth,  for  Nur  Mahal  led  Mowbray  into  the  midst 
of  the  standing  crop  until  they  were  out  of  earshot  of 
the  others. 

Then  she  turned  towards  him,  and  there  was  a  rap 
ture  in  her  face  which  was  bewildering,  though  the  way 
in  which  she  still  clung  to  his  arm  caused  the  warm 
blood  to  tingle  in  his  veins. 

"Tell  me,"  she  murmured  softly;  "if  we  go  to  Burd- 
wan,  are  you  content  to  abide  there  ?  " 


[207] 


CHAPTER  XIII 

"A  man  that  hath  friends  must  show  himself  friendly; 
and  there  is  a  friend  that  sticketh  closer  than  a  brother." 

Prov.  xviii.  24. 

THAT  man  would  be  a  fool  who  pretended  to  misun 
derstand  her.  She  would  have  said  more,  but  words 
failed.  Her  labored  breath  betrayed  her,  and  the  light 
that  kindles  only  in  a  woman's  eyes  leaped  out  at  him. 
He  seemed  to  be  wandering  in  a  maze  with  a  siren  as 
guide.  What  magic  spell  surrounded  him  ?  Why  had 
the  arrival  of  Jahangir's  messenger  forced  this  tacit 
avowal  from  the  lips  of  the  proudest  woman  in  India  ? 

If  she  defied  the  Emperor  and  continued  the  journey 
to  Burdwan,  it  must  be  as  the  promised  wife  of  Walter 
Mowbray,  an  alien  in  race,  and  one  who  professed  a 
hostile  faith.  Never  was  stranger  compact  dreamed 
of.  They  knew  little  of  each  other,  beyond  the  ac 
quaintance  arising  from  an  enforced  companionship 
of  five  days.  They  scarce  had  a  thought  in  common. 
They  were  bred  and  reared  under  social  conditions  as 
wide  asunder  as  the  poles.  Nature,  indeed,  careless 
of  arbitrary  restrictions,  had  fashioned  them  in  superb 
comparison,  for  never  were  man  and  woman  better 
mated  physically  than  these  two.  But  the  law  which 
parts  the  East  from  the  West  divided  them,  and, 
[208] 


The  Great  Mogul 

although  Nur  Mahal  would  have  scorned  the  unseen 
barrier,  Mowbray  drew  back.  Assuredly,  there  is  no 
knowing  what  his  answer  would  have  been  had  not 
another  face  risen  before  his  entranced  vision,  and  a 
despairing  voice  cried  bitterly  in  his  ears :  "  Oh,  Ann, 
they  have  taken  him ! " 

Yes,  though  far  from  Spanish  halberds  and  London 
Tower,  here  was  lifelong  bondage  chaining  him  with  a 
glamour  more  enduring  than  fetters  of  iron.  It  says 
much  for  the  charms  of  Eleanor  Roe  that  the  memory 
of  her  anguish  when  last  their  eyes  met  on  the  Thames- 
side  quay  rescued  her  lover  now  from  the  imminent  em 
brace  of  a  most  potent  rival. 

It  was  no  time  for  measured  phrase.  His  heart  rose 
in  pity  as  he  took  Nur  Mahal  in  his  arms  for  an  instant. 

"Sweet  lady,"  he  said,  "were  I  not  pledged  to  one 
whom  I  hold  dear  as  my  very  soul  I  would  abide  with 
you  in  Burdwan,  and  my  sword  should  defend  you 
while  my  hand  could  use  it.  But  no  man  can  gainsay 
lu's  fate.  He  can  only  keep  his  conscience  clean  and 
leave  the  rest  to  God.  I  came  to  India  hoping  to  earn 
a  fortune  wherewith  I  could  return  to  my  own  land  and 
claim  my  love.  I  have  failed,  yet  my  purpose  will 
endure  until  I  succeed  or  die." 

He  felt  the  shrinking  form  he  held  shake  with  a  sob, 
and  he  would  have  striven  to  comfort  her  with  some 
faltering  prediction  of  future  happiness  had  she  not 
raised  her  beautiful  face  in  wild  appeal. 

"I  have  not  humbled  myself  in  vain,"  she  fiercely 
cried.  "You  must  not  deem  me  unworthy  because  I 
[209] 


The  Great  Mogul 

have  departed  from  the  path  ordained  for  my  sex.  I 
am  no  timid  maid  who  nurses  her  woes  in  secret.  It 
may  be  that  I  am  incapable  of  feeling  that  which  other 
women  call  love.  Never  was  man  more  deserving  of 
true  and  faithful  wife  than  Sher  Afghan.  Yet  I  hated 
him.  You  are  one  whom  I  could  trust  and  honor. 
Had  the  fates  willed  it  we  should  have  gone  far  to 
gether.  Now  I  yield  to  my  destiny.  Go !  It  is  ended. 
If  I  never  see  your  face  again,  at  least  think  well  of  me, 
and  strive  to  forget  that,  in  a  moment  of  folly,  I  sacri 
ficed  my  self-respect  for  your  sake." 

And  now  she  struggled  to  free  herself,  but,  because 
of  his  true  regard  for  her,  he  would  not  suffer  her  to 
leave  him  in  such  self-condemning  mood. 

"Nay,  fair  lady,"  he  murmured,  "we  do  not  part 
thus.  I  have  misjudged  you  in  the  past;  be  it  mine 
now  to  make  amends.  You  were  wedded  against  your 
will,  yet  who  shall  hold  you  guilty  of  your  husband's 
death  ?  Be  assured  that  none  in  all  this  land  shall 
shield  your  high  repute  as  I  and  my  honest  comrade, 
Sainton.  Lead  us  to  your  State,  and  if  Sher  Afghan's 
followers  prove  faithful  to  his  widow's  cause,  Jahangir 
may  wreck  his  throne  in  seeking  to  injure  you." 

Again  she  lifted  her  wondrous  face  to  his,  and  tears 
were  glistening  in  her  eyes.  Yet,  in  the  dim  light  of 
the  open  field  he  fancied  he  saw  a  piteous  smile  dimple 
her  cheeks. 

"Spare  me  your  vows,"  she  said.     "Keep  them  for 
her  whose  love  is  so  strong  that  it  binds  you  beyond  the 
seas.     And  now,  let  us  return." 
[210] 


She  looked  up  at  him  so  wistfully  that  he  yielded  to 
impulse  and  kissed  her.  Perchance  her  heart  fluttered 
with  the  thought  that  she  had  won,  after  all.  But 
Mowbray  was  adamant  in  his  faith,  and  his  was  the 
kiss  of  pity,  not  of  passion. 

"I  shall  never  know  peace  again,"  he  cried,  "until 
you  are  well  content  that  I  am  pledged  to  another,  and 
even  wish  her  well  of  a  poor  bargain." 

"Then  you  are  doomed  to  a  life  of  misery,  for  that 
shall  never  be,"  she  retorted. 

"  Say  not  so,  Princess.  Your  name  alone  was  chosen 
with  wondrous  wisdom.  It  marks  out  one  who  has 
but  to  seek  a  throne  to  obtain  it." 

"  Ah,  is  that  your  secret  thought  ?  Strange,  indeed 
that  it  should  pair  with  mine!" 

She  wrenched  herself  free  from  his  embrace,  and  ran 
a  little  way  back  through  the  millet.  Then  she  stopped, 
and  there  was  the  wonted  imperious  ring  in  her  voice 
as  she  cried :  — 

"A  moment  ago  you  undertook  to  defend  me  from 
my   enemies.     Swear,   then,   that  you   will   obey  my 
wishes ! " 

"  In  all  things  which  concern  your  welfare  — " 

"Fear  not,  Mowbray-sahib.  I  offer  myself  twice  to 
no  man." 

Her  quick  transition  from  melting  femininity  to  stern 
dominance  surprised  him  as  greatly  as  aught  that  had 
gone  before.  It  relieved  him,  too.  Who  could  deny 
the  truth  of  Nur  Mahal's  estimate  of  herself,  that  she 
was  not  like  unto  other  women  ? 


The  Great  Mogul 

"I  swear!"  he  said,  wondering  what  new  madness 
possessed  her. 

'  'Tis  well,"  she  answered.  "  I  shall  soon  put  your 
fealty  to  the  test." 

Without  another  word,  she  passed  to  the  road,  where 
Sainton's  giant  figure  towered  among  the  group  of  men 
and  horses.  Her  quick  eyes  discovered  Jahangir's 
messenger,  and  she  addressed  him  as  if  he  were  a  ser 
vant  of  lowest  rank. 

"  Ibrahim ! "  she  cried,  "  did  thy  master,  the  Emperor, 
give  thee  thy  charge  in  writing?" 

The  Chief  Eunuch  bowed  obsequiously. 

"Knowing  your  repute  for  exceeding  discernment," 
he  said,  "I  even  asked  the  Emperor  of  the  World*  to 
honor  me  with  his  written  command.  I  carry  it  with 
me." 

"Follow  me  to  the  village.  There  we  can  procure 
a  light." 

Whatever  purpose  she  had  in  mind  she  gave  no  sign 
of  her  intent  until  she  had  perused  the  script  which 
Ibrahim  handed  to  her.  Mowbray,  watching  her 
mobile  features  as  she  broke  the  seal  of  the  Emperor's 
parchment,  whilst  one  of  her  women  held  a  lantern,  saw 
only  an  expression  of  fixed  resolve,  her  set  lips  and 
thoughtful  eyes  revealing  a  determination  to  carry  out 
in  the  best  way  the  course  upon  which  she  had  already 
decided. 

She  read  Jahangir's  letter  twice  before  she  spoke, 
and,  even  then,  there  was  an  odd  restraint  in  her 

*  A  literal  translation  of  the  name  "  Jahangir." 
[212] 


The  Great  Mogul 

manner  when  she  addressed  Mowbray  and  Sainton, 
who,  with  the  Chief  Eunuch,  had  accompanied  her  in 
silence. 

"  Jahangir  told  his  envoy  the  chief  part  of  that  which 
he  has  written.  Ibrahim's  message  is  exact  in  so  far 
as  it  touches  your  affairs.  I  will  fulfil  the  Emperor's 
behests  in  all  save  one  slight  matter.  You  must  not 
return  to  Agra.  The  Ganges  lies  a  short  march  ahead, 
and,  now  that  I  have  Jahangir's  written  promise  to  pay 
you,  there  is  no  reason  why  I  should  not  discharge  his 
obligations." 

"I  have  brought  no  great  store  of  money,"  put  in 
Ibrahim  nervously. 

"  Said  I  aught  to  thee  ?  "  she  blazed  out  at  him.  "  It 
will  be  thy  turn  to  speak  when  the  Emperor  demands 
a  witness." 

"Do  you  revert  to  a  proposal  which  we  have  once 
refused  ?  "  asked  Walter,  with  Saxon  doggedness  frown 
ing  in  his  face. 

"I  revert  to  your  promise  given  me  quarter  of  an 
hour  ago." 

"  I  swore  to  obey  you,  but  — " 

"  Obey  then,  without  question.  Since  you  force  me 
to  it,  I  command  you  to  accept  my  jewels  in  payment 
of  the  Emperor's  debt.  A  lakh  and  a  half,  is  it  not? 
If  you  are  not  cheated,  they  are  worth  as  much.  Fur 
ther,  I  advise  you  to  retain  a  score  of  my  men  until  you 
reach  Calcutta.  They  will  follow  you,  I  doubt  not, 
but,  to  make  certain  of  their  allegiance,  I  shall  promise 
them  a  good  reward  if  they  return  bearing  me  a  letter 
[213] 


The  Great  Mogul 

from  you.  They  cannot  deceive  me,  as  I  shall  have 
your  signature  on  the  receipt  for  the  money." 

"  In  truth,  Princess,  'tis  easy  to  see  that  you  are  the 
daughter  of  the  High  Treasurer,"  broke  in  Roger 
suddenly.  Nur  Mahal's  tense  expression  relaxed  for 
an  instant;  nevertheless,  Walter,  vexed  that  he  should 
be  forced  into  a  settlement  exceedingly  repulsive  to  his 
feelings,  asked  gloomily :  — 

"  What  other  of  the  Emperor's  requests  do  you  carry 
out?" 

"  I  go  back  to  the  Garden  of  Heart's  Delight.  You 
spoke  just  now  of  fortunate  names.  Is  it  not  happily 
entitled  ?  " 

The  quiet  scorn  of  the  question  revealed  to  him  an 
utter  hopelessness  which  was  so  greatly  at  variance 
with  her  confident  mien  during  their  flight  that  not 
even  the  scene  which  took  place  in  the  field  of  millet 
served  to  explain  it  wholly  to  his  puzzled  brain.  In  the 
presence  of  the  rabbit-eared  Chief  Eunuch  it  was  not 
advisable  to  say  too  much,  but  he  could  not  forbear  a 
comment. 

"I  have  heard  you  describe  a  woman's  mind  as  a 
lake,"  he  said.  "Will  you  forgive  me  if  I  liken  it  to 
a  whirlpool,  in  which  thoughts  flowing  in  one  direction 
at  one  moment,  fly  in  the  opposite  way  the  next." 

She  laughed  lightly,  though  the  joy  had  gone  from 
her  mirth. 

"  You  still  would  have  me  go  to  Burdwan  ?  "  she  cried. 

"Yes;  and  I  care  not  who  hears." 

"Nor  do  I,  for  the  Emperor  bids  me  return,  and  I 
[214] 


am  dutiful.  Who  could  deny  the  wish  of  so  benignant 
a  prince  ?  " 

"Burdwan  without  a  husband  is  not  to  your  liking, 
perchance.  It  would  be  dry  meat,  anyhow,  as  the 
fellow  said  after  coursing  a  hare  and  losing  it,"  said 
Roger,  who,  for  a  cause  best  known  to  himself*  at 
tempted  to  deprive  the  undercurrent  of  their  speech  of 
its  vinegar. 

"Spare  us  such  ill-timed  jokes,"  growled  Mowbray 
angrily  in  English,  but  Roger  only  answered :  — 

"Gad!  if  the  quip  run  not  with  thy  humor,  leg  it 
after  the  hare  again." 

Walter  realized  that  his  level-headed  comrade  ap 
preciated  the  situation  sanely,  and  was,  indeed,  advising 
him  how  to  act.  Yet  he  was  torn  by  a  thousand  con 
flicting  emotions.  That  field  of  millet  had  been  to  him 
a  bed  of  nettles.  He  was  still  smarting  from  the  sting 
of  recollection.  If  Nur  Mahal  offered  herself  twice  to 
no  man,  assuredly  she  was  a  woman  whom  few  men 
would  refuse  at  the  first  asking.  And  to  what  purpose 
had  he  thrust  her  away  ?  For  all  he  knew  to  the  con 
trary,  Nellie  Roe  might  be  married  these  two  years. 
He  had  conversed  with  that  sprightly  maid  during  half 
a  day.  He  had  kissed  her  once.  He  had  seen  her  fall 
fainting  into  the  arms  of  Anna  Cave,  as  any  girl  might 
have  done  who  witnessed  the  arrest  of  a  young  cavalier 
for  whom  she  felt  a  passing  regard  and  whose  ill  fortunes 
were  incurred  in  her  behalf.  Frail  bonds,  these,  to 
hold  in  leash  a  warm-blooded  youth! 

His  adventurous  soul  spurred  him  on  to  follow  the 
[215] 


The  Great  Mogul 

career  which  Nur  Mahal  offered  him.  In  those  days, 
when  the  world  was  young,  a  stout  heart  and  a  ready 
sword  were  a  man's  chief  credentials.  In  no  land  did 
they  lead  to  the  Paradise  of  happy  chance  more  readily 
than  in  India,  where  the  golden  fruit  of  the  pagoda  tree 
was  ever  ripe  for  him  who  dared  to  shake  a  laden 
branch.  And  yet,  and  yet  —  a  lover's  kiss  in  an  Eng 
lish  garden  withheld  him  from  the  glamour  of  it  all. 

It  was  fortunate,  perhaps,  in  that  hour  of  fiercest 
temptation,  that  Nur  Mahal  was  too  proud  to  stoop 
again  to  conquer.  There  were  not  wanting  signs  to 
her  quick  intelligence  that  Mowbray  was  fighting  with 
beasts  at  Ephesus.  Yet  she  disdained,  by  word  or 
look,  to  join  the  contest,  and  it  may  be  that  her  Eastern 
brain  conceived  a  more  subtle  way  of  achieving  her 
object.  She  brought  forth  the  little  box  of  cedar  wood 
and  handed  it  to  Walter. 

"  Take  heed,  Ibrahim,"  she  said,  "  that  I  have  given 
the  sahiba  diamonds  to  the  value  of  a  lakh  and  a  half. 
You  shall  prepare  a  full  quittance  for  the  Emperor,  and 
Mowbray-sahib  shall  sign  it.  Be  speedy!" 

She  gave  Walter  a  quick  look  from  those  wonderful 
eyes  of  hers. 

"Whilst  Ibrahim  inscribes  the  receipt,"  she  con 
tinued,  "you  should  choose  your  attendants." 

"At  this  hour?" 

"Why  not?  When  an  Emperor  is  urgent  the  night 
becomes  day.  I  begin  the  march  back  to  Agra  forth 
with." 

Even  the  wearied  Chief  Eunuch  would  have  pro- 
[216] 


The  Great  Mogul 

tested,  but  she  did  not  deign  to  heed  his  stammering 
words.  It  took  Ibrahim  some  time  to  write  all  Jahan- 
gir's  titles  on  the  parchment  which  set  forth  Nur 
Mahal's  settlement  of  Akbar's  debt.  When  the  last 
flourish  was  drawn,  and  Mowbray  had  appended  his 
name  to  the  script,  with  Roger's  cross  as  agreeing  to 
the  same,  the  masterful  lady  herself  was  equipped  for 
the  road. 

She  sought  no  private  leave-taking  of  the  man  whom, 
an  hour  earlier,  she  was  willing  to  espouse.  Before 
them  all,  she  curtsied  most  gracefully  to  the  two 
Englishmen. 

"Farewell,  sahiba,"  she  said.  "May  Allah  prosper 
you!" 

And  with  that  she  was  gone.  Ere  they  were  fully 
resolved  that  this  was,  indeed,  the  end,  they  heard  the 
hoof-beats  of  her  retreating  cavalcade.  Soon  they 
knew,  from  the  distant  commotion,  that  the  Emperor's 
troopers  were  withdrawing  to  their  last  camping-place. 

Mowbray,  a  prey  to  thoughts  which  he  could  ill 
control,  stood  with  Sainton  a  little  apart  from  the 
cluster  of  mud  huts  adjoining  their  bivouac.  Roger, 
sympathizing  with  the  stress  of  his  comrade's  reflec 
tions,  gazed  at  the  stars  and  softly  whistled  a  few  bars  of 
an  air  popular  in  the  North 

"O,  do  ye  ken  Elsie  Marley,  honey  — 
The   wife   that   sells   the   barley,   honey? 
For  Elsie  Marley 's  grown  so  fine, 
She  wean't  get  up  to  feed  the  swine." 

[217] 


The  Great  Mogul 

But  Jai  Singh,  who  had  elected  to  go  with  them  to 
Calcutta,  did  not  scruple  to  break  in  on  his  new  master's 
reverie.  To  him,  no  matter  what  the  comedy  played 
by  his  mistress,  one  woman  more  or  less  in  the  world 
was  of  little  import. 

"  Do  we,  too,  march  to-night,  sahib  ?  "  he  asked,  when 
he  discovered  Mowbray  on  the  outskirts  of  the  hamlet. 

"  No,"  was  the  curt  reply. 

"Then,  sahib,  if  Khuda  permits  it,  let  us  sleep. 
Three  times  in  one  month  have  we  passed  restless  nights 
in  this  accursed  village." 

"Ha!  Why  are  these  poor  dwellings  more  hateful 
than  any  others  passed  on  the  road?" 

"I  know  not,  sahib,  unless  it  be  a  meeting-place  of 
evil  spirits.  When  the  Maharani  came  this  way  to 
Burdwan  she  wept  all  night  and  refused  to  be  com 
forted.  When  she  returned  she  wept  again,  for  it  was 
here  we  rested  after  regaining  the  great  road.  To 
night,  when  I  saw  her  smiling  whilst  she  conversed 
with  your  Lordships,  I  thought  the  spell  was  broken. 
Yet,  by  the  beard  of  Manu,  now  she  is  gone  —  and  for 
what  ?  —  to  indulge  the  fancy  of  a  king  who  murdered 
that  good  man,  Sher  Afghan." 

"It  may  be  that  the  local  fiends  are  unfriendly  to 
her  and  not  to  thee,  Jai  Singh.  Sleep  in  peace.  We 
march  betimes  in  the  morning." 

He  knew  full  well  that  ambition  was  the  sprite  which 
plagued  Nur  Mahal.  It  had  tortured  many  before  her, 
nor  would  it  cease  to  vex  mankind  long  after  her  restless 
soul  was  stilled  eternally. 

[«18J 


The  Great  Mogul 

"In  truth,"  said  Roger,  as  they  walked  slowly  after 
Jai  Singh,  "I  am  resolved  now  that  your  lucky  star 
shines  over  these  hovels,  lad.  Had  you  tried  to  shoe 
yon  filly  she  would  have  requited  you  by  kicking  you 
into  the  smithy  fire." 

"My  soul,  that  would  be  the  proper  lot  of  an  in 
different  smith,"  said  Mowbray,  with  a  queer  bitterness 
in  his  voice,  for  weak  human  nature  is  so  made  up  of 
contradictions  that  he  missed  Nur  Mahal  sorely  now 
that  he  had  seen  the  last  of  her. 

"Ecod,  if  that  is  your  way  of  thinking,  why  didn't 
you  give  her  a  hearty  hug  when  she  led  you  forth  into 
the  field  of  chick-peas?  Women  will  oft  yield  to  a 
squeeze  when  they  cry  '  Pshaw '  to  a  sigh.  My  mother 
told  me—" 

"  I  pray  to  the  saints,  if  ever  we  see  England  again, 
thy  mother  may  tell  thee  when  to  hold  thy  tongue," 
cried  Walter  wrathfully,  whereat  Roger  whistled 
another  bar  of  "Elsie  Marley,"  and  winked  porten 
tously  at  a  gnarled  and  wizened  village  head-man,  who 
cowered  in  his  blanket  close  to  their  fire.  The  old 
fellow  wondered  dully  what  all  these  comings  and 
goings  of  great  folk  betokened,  but  the  giant's  humor 
pleased  him  greatly.  It  was  propitious  to  be  thus 
noticed  by  a  lord  of  the  earth. 

Thenceforth,  their  days  and  nights  provided  an  un 
eventful  record  of  quiet  travel.  They  reached  Alla 
habad  next  day,  and  the  local  Kotwal  was  minded  to 
give  them  some  trouble.  He  was  cowed  instantly  when 
Walter  exhibited  Akbar's  order  to  the  Treasurer,  which 
[219] 


The  Great  Mogul 

he  had  forgotten  to  hand  to  Ibrahim  with  the  receipt. 
Nevertheless,  being  now  well  versed  in  the  ways  of 
Indian  officials,  he  marveled  at  the  man's  hectoring 
manners,  since  this  city,  situated  at  the  confluence  of 
the  Ganges  and  the  Jumna,  was  one  of  the  chief 
resting-places  for  merchants  passing  between  the  Mogul 
capital  and  the  Hughli  delta.  Even  at  that  date  the 
Bay  of  Bengal  was  becoming  noted  as  the  site  of  im 
portant  trading  stations.  It  was  passing  strange  that 
the  civil  head  of  Allahabad  should  be  so  impolitic. 

No  restrictions  were  placed  on  his  movements,  how 
ever,  and  the  incident  scarce  demanded  further  thought. 
Indeed,  the  Kotwal  deigned  to  help  him  by  ordering 
his  men  to  belabor  the  curious  crowds  which  hampered 
progress  through  the  bazaar,  for  the  fame  of  Sainton's 
stature  spread  like  wild-fire,  and  numbers  of  mild-eyed 
Hindus  came  to  gaze  at  him. 

Here,  they  were  able  to  test  the  value  of  Nur  Mahal's 
gift.  Deeming  it  wise  to  replenish  their  small  stock  of 
ready  money,  eked  out  as  it  was  by  a  sum  which  she 
had  entrusted  to  Jai  Singh  for  the  expenses  of  the 
escort,  they  sold  four  small  diamonds  in  the  bazaar. 
The  gems  brought  a  thousand  rupees,  after  some  bar 
gaining,  so  it  was  evident,  even  to  non-experts,  that 
the  two  hundred  stones  in  the  little  cedar  cabinet, 
some  being  very  large  and  pure,  must  be  worth  even 
more  than  the  price  estimated. 

With  the  money  thus  obtained  they  purchased  three 
roomy,  flat-bottomed  boats,  spacious  enough  to  house 
the  whole  party,  man  and  horse.  Assured  that  there 
[220] 


The  Great  Mogul 

would  be  no  difficulty  in  securing  food  and  fodder  on 
the  long  river  voyage  they  did  not  burthen  their  craft 
with  a  bulk  of  stores.  Nevertheless,  their  prepara 
tions,  though  simple,  consumed  several  days,  for,  to 
the  native  of  India,  Kal  (to-morrow)  is  as  precious  a 
word  as  Mariana  to  the  Spaniard. 

At  last,  after  a  weary  delay,  towards  which  Mowbray 
strongly  suspected  the  Kotwal  contributed  indirectly, 
the  huge,  osier-woven  sails  of  their  buggalows  were 
hoisted,  and  the  unwieldy  caravels  lumbered  slowly 
down  stream.  Owing  to  the  ever-changing  channel, 
the  numerous  sand-banks,  the  occasional  barriers  of 
half  sunken  trees  and  other  debris,  they  could  only 
move  during  the  hours  of  daylight.  At  night  they  tied 
up  near  some  village,  where  young  goats,  eggs,  poultry, 
milk,  and  grain  were  obtainable.  At  times,  the  people 
were  so  poor  that  even  these  primary  commodities  ran 
short,  but,  on  the  whole,  they  fared  well.  A  week's 
quiet  voyaging  did  wonders  for  their  horses.  The 
hardy  country-breds  became  sleek  and  fat.  When 
taken  ashore  for  exercise  they  would  plunge  and  caper 
for  sheer  liveliness.  One  evening,  after  they  had 
passed  Benares,  some  such  ebullition  on  the  part  of 
the  powerful  stallion  which  carried  Sainton  during  the 
march  from  Agra  caused  his  master  to  growl :  — 
•  "It  seems  a  daft  thing  to  me,  Walter,  to  ferry  these 
ill-mannered  brutes  so  far.  They  are  in  good  condition 
now.  Why  not  sell  them  at  the  next  big  town,  and  let 
Jai  Singh  purchase  others  for  his  return  up  country  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  thinking  of  that  same  plan,"  agreed  his 
[5221] 


The  Great  Mogul 

friend.     "  Let  us  consult  Jai  Singh,  and  hear  what  he 
says." 

But  the  shrewd  old  Rajput  opposed  the  suggestion. 
He  pleaded  that  no  such  cattle  could  be  bought  in 
Lower  Bengal,  and  that  they  themselves  would  be  glad 
of  good  mounts  when  they  quitted  the  river  to  ride  into 
Calcutta.  The  argument  prevailed,  though  his  real 
intent  was  to  sell  the  animals  as  soon  as  their  backs 
were  turned  and  procure  wretched  tats  for  himself 
and  his  comrades,  thereby  netting  a  very  handsome 
profit. 

In  life,  it  is  ever  the  trivial  things  that  count.  A 
straw  would  have  swayed  them  to  barter  the  horses  at 
Dinapore.  Had  they  done  so  this  history  would  have 
changed  its  course. 

It  was  their  custom  to  pass  through  populous  places 
without  stopping.  Seen  from  the  banks,  they  attracted 
little  attention,  which  suited  their  purpose  better  than 
to  leave  behind  them  a  trial  of  surmise  and  gossip. 
The  dull  villagers  they  encountered  had  no  ideas  be 
yond  the  state  of  the  crops  and  the  prospect  of  an  early 
monsoon.  Hence,  they  slipped  quietly,  if  slowly,  over 
a  very  long  stretch  of  their  journey  to  the  sea  without 
any  important  event  breaking  the  monotony  of  peaceful 
nights  and  restful  days. 

The  pranks  which  fortune  had  played  them  in  the 
past  might  have  warned  them  that  this  idyllic  existence 
could  not  continue.  But  the  fickle  jade  gave  them  no 
portent.  Little  did  they  realize  that  stern  times  were 
come  again  when  one  evening,  whilst  strolling  ashore 
[222] 


The  Great  Mogul 

on  a  high  bank  and  idly  watching  the  Rajputs  watering 
the  horses,  a  man,  black  as  a  negro,  but  dressed  in 
semi-European  costume,  suddenly  appeared  from  a 
clump  of  trees  crowning  the  promontory  carved  from 
the  land  by  a  bend  of  the  stream  at  that  point. 

Half  running,  half  staggering,  he  made  towards  them. 
As  he  came  nearer,  they  perceived  that  he  was  in  des 
perate  plight.  His  garments  were  blood-stained;  his 
gait  and  aspect  told  of  abject  fear;  his  eyes  glistened 
like  those  of  a  hunted  fawn;  and,  sinister  token,  his 
hands  were  weighted  with  heavy  gyves  of  a  fashion 
usually  intended  for  the  legs  of  prisoners. 

"Gad!"  cried  Roger,  staring  at  the  apparition,  "this 
chuck  minds  me  of  that  image  of  Satan  who  greeted  us 
on  board  Sir  Thomas  Roe's  ship.  Yet,  an  he  be  the 
devil  himself,  some  one  hath  bound  him!" 

The  poor  wretch  reached  them,  fell  panting  at  their 
feet,  and  gasped  in  Portuguese :  — 

"  Save  me !  Save  me,  for  the  love  of  God,  if  ye  are 
Christians ! " 

Their  long  voyage  with  Captain  Garcia  had  taught 
them  sufficient  of  the  lingua  franca  of  the  high  seas  at 
that  period  to  understand  his  frantic  appeal.  Walter 
stooped  and  patted  his  shoulder  encouragingly.  He 
found  it  hard  to  arrange  a  sentence  in  the  man's  lan 
guage,  but  he  managed  to  say :  — 

"  Have  no  fear.     We  are  English." 

Then  it  occurred  to  him  that  one  who  wandered  in 
such  fashion  through  the  wilds  of  India  must  surely 
know  Hindustani,  so  he  continued :  — 
[223] 


The  Great  Mogul 

"There  are  none  here  to  harm  you.  Why  are  you 
chained  ?  Of  whom  are  you  so  afraid  ?  " 

The  man,  a  Portuguese  half-caste,  who,  like  many  of 
his  class,  more  resembled  an  African  than  an  Indian, 
save  in  respect  to  his  smooth,  blue-black  hair,  seemed 
to  be  too  dazed  to  do  other  than  pour  out  trembling 
demands  for  succor.  Roger,  thinking  deeds  served 
better  than  words,  to  reassure  him,  lifted  the  heavy 
links  which  connected  the  fetters  on  his  wrists. 

"  Mayhap,"  he  said,  "  if  thy  hands  are  freed  thy 
tongue  may  loosen  itself." 

With  that,  he  tore  apart  the  rivets  binding  the  chain 
to  the  bracelets.  Two  mighty  tugs,  and  the  chain  lay 
on  the  ground.  But  this  exhibition  of  strength  merely 
stupefied  the  captive.  Surprise  made  him  dumb.  It 
was  not  until  they  led  him  to  the  boats  and  gave  him 
some  food,  which  he  ate  ravenously,  that  they  were 
able  to  extract  an  intelligible  story  from  him. 

With  many  a  vow  to  the  Mother  of  Mercy  and  all  the 
chief  saints  in  the  calendar,  the  fugitive,  a  youth  of 
twenty,  who  said  his  name  was  Antonio  da  Silva,  told 
them  how  Abdul  Aziz,  a  fanatical  Musalman  of  high 
position  in  Bengal,  had  treacherously  attacked  the 
Portuguese  colony  at  Hughli.  There  was  a  fight,  in 
which  many  were  killed,  but  the  multitude  of  assailants, 
no  less  than  the  wholly  unexpected  nature  of  the 
assault,  sufficed  to  carry  the  town  by  storm.  After 
looting  the  stores,  Abdul  Aziz  paraded  the  survivors, 
offered  degrading  terms  to  those  of  both  sexes  who 
would  become  Mahomedans,  and,  when  only  three 
[224] 


The  Great  Mogul 

men  and  one  woman  yielded,  out  of  some  two  hundred 
prisoners,  despatched  the  whole  company,  strongly 
guarded,  to  the  northern  capital. 

Hearing  this  story,  which  so  curiously  bore  out  the 
accuracy  of  Nur  Mahal's  information,  the  two  English 
men  looked  at  each  other. 

"Now  we  know  why  she  bade  us  take  the  river," 
said  Roger.  "Had  we  gone  by  road  we  had  encoun 
tered  these  unfortunates." 

"We  are  much  beholden  to  her,"  said  Mowbray. 
"But  how  and  when  did  you  contrive  to  escape?"  he 
went  on,  filling  Antonio's  empty  plate  again. 

"  Yesterday,  at  the  close  of  a  weary  march  — " 

"Yesterday!     Is  the  convoy  so  close,  then?" 

Da  Silva  pointed  to  the  west. 

"  The  party  is  not  more  than  five  miles  distant  over 
there,"  he  said.  "  It  chanced  last  night  that  there  was 
some  confusion  owing  to  the  advance  guard  having  gone 
beyond  the  agreed  camping-ground.  We  prisoners 
wrere  hurried  back  in  the  dark.  Passing  through  a 
wood,  and  scarce  able  to  walk  owing  to  fatigue  and  the 
weight  of  my  fetters,  I  stumbled  over  a  rock  and  fell 
into  a  hollow.  I  lay  there,  expecting  to  be  roused  with 
a  lance-thrust,  but  careless  what  fate  awaited  me. 
Mater  Misericordia !  the  black  dogs  heeded  me  not. 
When  I  discovered  that  I  had  not  been  missed,  hope 
gave  me  new  strength.  I  rose,  and  went  rapidly  along 
the  road  in  front,  thinking  that  search  would  not  be 
made  far  in  that  direction,  whereas  any  attempt  to 
reach  the  south  road  would  lead  to  my  capture.  At 
[225] 


dawn,  utterly  spent  though  I  was,  I  turned  into  the 
cultivated  land,  knowing  that  in  time  I  should  gain  the 
river's  bank.  I  kept  on  until  the  presence  of  villagers 
caused  me  to  hide  in  the  tope  of  trees  whence  I  first 
saw  you.  I  dared  not  reveal  myself  to  the  natives,  be 
cause  they  would  conduct  me  back  to  the  column,  being 
fearful  lest  the  soldiers  should  pillage  them  for  con 
cealing  me.  So  I  lay  close  all  day,  without  so  much  as  a 
drink  of  water,  until  the  good  God  sent  your  lordships 
towards  my  hiding-place.  Then  I  felt  that  I  was  safe." 
There  was  a  spice  of  humor  in  the  tragedy  of  his 
story.  He  called  Indian  Mahomedans  "black,"  and 
alluded  to  the  inhabitants  of  Upper  Bengal  as  "  natives  " 
with  all  the  assurance  of  the  whitest  white  who  ever 
entered  the  country.  But  the  Englishmen  were  more 
concerned  in  the  character  of  his  news  than  in  his  way 
of  imparting  it.  While  such  a  gang  as  the  swash 
bucklers  of  Abdul  Aziz  infested  the  neighborhood,  it 
behooved  them  to  keep  watch  and  ward  until  the 
marauders  were  far  removed.  Moreover,  the  magni 
tude  of  the  affair  was  alarming.  If  the  Hughli  district 
were  overrun,  the  other  stations  at  Calcutta  and  lower 
down  the  river  would  be  difficult  of  access.  Da  Silva, 
in  reply  to  further  questions,  said  that  the  sacking  of 
the  Portuguese  colony  took  place  nearly  a  month  since, 
so  Jahangir  must  have  despatched  his  murderous  order 
soon  after  he  came  to  the  throne.  Were  his  couriers 
carrying  a  similar  mandate  to  the  west  coast  ?  Would 
the  Christian  posts  at  Surat,  Ahmedabad  and  Bombay 
also  be  given  to  the  flames  ? 
[226] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Certainly,  here  was  a  dilemma.  Yet  their  only 
course,  precarious  though  it  might  be,  was  to  guard 
against  sudden  attack,  keep  to  the  river,  and  endeavor 
at  all  hazards  to  reach  the  sea. 

Ere  night  fell,  Jai  Singh  and  a  sowar  made  an  exten 
sive  reconnaissance  on  horseback  beyond  the  perimeter 
of  the  village.  They  returned,  to  report  that  many 
fires  were  lit  in  the  locality  described  by  the  half-caste. 

By  this  time,  da  Silva's  confidence  was  somewhat 
restored,  and  he  bethought  himself  of  the  miserable  lot 
of  his  fellow  captives. 

"Ah!"  he  sighed,  "what  would  I  not  give  to  help 
them.  Think  of  that  gracious  lady,  the  Countess  di 
Cabota,  being  subjected  to  such  indignities!  Though 
she  looks  young  enough,  she  is  very  stout,  and  she 
suffers  greatly  from  the  vagaries  of  the  mule  on  which 
she  is  strapped.  And  then,  the  good  priests!  I  can 
see  them  now,  patiently  enduring  contumely  and  insult, 
and  answering  each  blow  with  a  prayer." 

"  A  Countess ! "  said  Mowbray.  "  How  came  a  lady 
of  rank  to  be  in  an  Indian  station  ?  " 

"  They  say  she  was  jealous  of  her  husband,  who  was 
a  very  handsome  man,  and  when  he  was  named  Gov 
ernor  of  the  Portuguese  possessions  in  the  East  Indies 
she  insisted  on  coming  with  him.  But  he  died  of  a 
fever,  and  she  was  about  to  go  home  when  the  attack 
took  place." 

"Are  there  many  women  among  the  prisoners?" 

"  About  forty,  your  lordship,  but  some  are  converts. 
Perhaps  twenty,  all  told,  are  Europeans  like  myself." 
[227] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Walter  repressed  the  temptation  to  laugh. 

"  It  is  a  grave  matter,"  he  said,  "  and  Portugal  should 
avenge  it  heavily.  While  the  names  are  fresh  in  your 
mind  tell  me  all  you  can  remember.  I  shall  set  them 
down  for  the  information  of  the  first  Portuguese  official 
I  encounter." 

The  roll  progressed  until  da  Silva  reached  the  eccle 
siastics. 

"  First,  let  me  think  of  the  Franciscans.  Who,  that 
knew  him,  would  not  weep  for  good  Fra  Pietro!" 

"Fra  Pietro!" 

There  was  many  a  "  Brother  Peter  "  in  the  Franciscan 
order,  yet  the  words  smote  Mowbray's  ears  with  a 
sudden  menace  of  disaster. 

"Tell  me  of  this  Fra  Pietro,"  he  said.  "What 
manner  of  man  is  he  ?  " 

Da  Silva,  glib  of  tongue  now,  told  of  a  monk  who 
was  sent  to  India  nearly  three  years  ago.  It  was 
rumored  that  he  had  been  guilty  of  a  breach  of  disci 
pline,  or  had,  in  some  manner,  displeased  the  author 
ities  at  Lisbon,  though  what  his  error  none  knew,  since 
there  never  was  saint  who  walked  the  earth  more  hum 
ble  and  devout  than  Fra  Pietro.  Yes,  Antonio  was  sure 
the  excellent  father  spoke  English,  because  he  conversed, 
in  their  own  language,  with  the  sailors  on  board  an 
English  ship  which  once  came  up  the  Hughli  river. 
Surely  his  lordship  must  have  met  Fra  Pietro,  seeing 
that  he  described  the  friar  so  accurately.  He  was,  in 
deed,  very  thin  and  pallid,  with  large  brown  eyes  that 
seemed  to  be  ever  contemplating  the  happiness  of  heaven ! 
[228] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Then  Walter  set  aside  his  tablets  and  hastened  to 
find  Sain  ton,  who  was  eating  an  extra  heavy  supper  on 
the  set  principle  that  a  good  deal  might  happen  ere 
breakfast. 

"Roger,"  he  said,  quietly,  unconscious  in  his  per 
plexity  of  the  pain  in  his  voice,  "  here  is  ill  news." 

"Why,  what  ails  thee,  lad?"  demanded  the  giant, 
suspending  his  assault  on  the  haunch  of  a  deer,  though, 
to  be  sure,  he  had  his  mouth  full. 

"You  remember  Fra  Pietro,  who  saved  us  from  the 
Inquisition  ? " 

"  Remember  him ! "  cried  Roger.  "  I  shall  forget  my 
own  name  first." 

Mowbray  pointed  to  the  dying  light  on  the  western 
horizon.  Against  the  golden  purple  of  the  sky  was 
silhouetted  the  indigo  line  of  the  great  centra*  plain  of 
India. 

"He  is  among  those  unhappy  people,"  he  said. 
"  Unless  I  err  greatly  he  is  there  because  he  helped  us 
to  escape.  Perchance  he  was  banished  because  they 
feared  to  put  him  to  death.  Roger,  what  say  you  ?  " 

"Say!  What  is  there  to  say!  Sit  thee  down,  lad, 
and  eat  while  we  think.  We  mun  have  him  out,  whole 
and  hearty,  though  every  cut-throat  between  here  and 
hell  barred  the  way." 


[229] 


CHAPTER  XIV 

"As  if  a  wheel  had  been  in  the  midst  of  a  wheel." 

Ezekiel  x.  10. 

ROGER'S  cheery  optimism  was  an  excellent  thing  in 
itself.  Nevertheless,  the  best  of  good-will  cannot  with 
stand  the  logic  of  hard  fact,  and  prolonged  discussion 
of  the  means  whereby  Fra  Pietro  might  be  rescued 
revealed  an  undertaking  bristling  with  difficulties. 
After  extracting  from  da  Silva  all  the  material  infor 
mation  h?  possessed,  they  considered  a  hundred  varying 
expedients,  rejecting  one  proposal  after  another  until 
they  almost  despaired  of  hitting  upon  any  scheme  which 
offered  even  a  remote  chance  of  success. 

They  took  Jai  Singh  into  their  confidence.  Unless 
he  and  his  Rajputs  yielded  willing  help  it  was  hard 
indeed  to  see  what  could  be  done.  Two  and  twenty 
men,  well  mounted,  might,  if  fortunate,  achieve  some 
thing:  two  men  alone,  with  hundreds  against  them, 
were  utterly  powerless. 

It  was  whilst  Jai  Singh  was  strenuously  opposing 
Sainton's  suggestion  of  a  direct  attack  that  Walter, 
inspired  by  idle  chance,  hit  upon  a  plan  the  very  daring 
of  which  commended  itself  to  them.  To  be  sure,  Roger 
long  remained  stubborn  ere  he  would  agree  to  it.  At 
last  he  yielded.  Admittedly,  the  project  was  a  for- 
[230] 


The  Great  Mogul 

lorn  hope,  yet  none  other  they  could  propound  gave 
such  promise  of  speedy  realization,  and  nothing  could 
shake  their  resolve  that  Fra  Pietro  must  be  saved. 

The  horses  were  quietly  disembarked;  by  present 
payment,  and  promise  of  greater  reward,  a  guide  was 
obtained  from  the  village;  and  the  whole  party,  less  da 
Silva  and  three  trustworthy  men,  set  off  under  the 
starlight  to  march  across  country  by  field  paths.  The 
three  Rajputs  who  remained  behind  were  charged  to 
safeguard  the  boats  and  prevent  any  enterprising  vil 
lager  from  carrying  news  to  the  distant  column.  Da 
Silva  was  left  not  only  because  he  was  paralyzed  with 
fright  at  the  bare  thought  of  falling  again  into  the  hands 
of  his  captors,  but  also  on  account  of  the  suspicion  his 
presence  in  their  company  would  arouse. 

Before  daybreak  they  reached  the  main  road,  a  dust- 
laden  track  with  slight  pretense  to  the  characteristics 
of  a  highway  other  than  the  occasional  felling  of  trees 
and  the  cutting  of  an  approach  wherever  the  steep 
banks  of  a  nullah  offered  a  barrier  to  the  passage  of  a 
caravan.  If  it  had  none  of  the  virtues  it  held  full 
measure  of  the  vices  inseparable  from  traffic.  Though 
animals  alone,  camels  for  the  most  part,  carried  Indian 
merchandise  over  long  distances,  the  ryots  were  wont 
to  use  heavy  two-wheeled  carts,  drawn  by  oxen,  and 
the  numerous  ruts  left  by  these  caused  the  so-called 
road  to  bear  more  semblance  to  a  ploughed  field  than 
the  land  which  was  actually  tilled,  as  the  Indian  plough 
merely  scratches  the  ground  and  leaves  no  furrow. 

The  whole  party  halted  at  some  distance  from  the 
[231] 


The  Great  Mogul 

road  itself.  It  was  essential  that  the  presence  of  a  body 
of  horse  should  not  be  discovered,  so,  at  this  point, 
Mowbray  and  Sainton  bade  each  other  farewell.  Never 
before,  during  their  many  wanderings,  had  they  sep 
arated  in  the  course  of  any  enterprise  which  threatened 
disaster  or  death. 

Walter  handed  to  his  disconsolate  friend  the  box  of 
jewels. 

"If  things  go  awry,"  he  said,  with  a  smile,  "you  will 
be  the  last  to  fall,  Roger." 

"  Aye,  lad,"  was  the  rueful  response.  "  I  am  doubting 
now  lest  we  ought  not  to  hunt  together." 

"  Your  heart  says  so,  but  your  head  warns  you  that 
we  have  chosen  the  better  way.  Good-by!" 

"  Good-by,  Walter,  and  may  the  Lord  be  with  you ! " 

Accompanied  by  a  single  Rajput  trooper,  a  brave 
youth  specially  recommended  by  Jai  Singh,  Walter 
turned  his  horse's  head  towards  the  road.  The  others, 
led  by  their  guide,  rode  off  into  the  jungle,  where  they 
were  speedily  lost  to  sight. 

Soon  the  sun,  dissipating  the  dawn -mist,  disclosed  a 
cloud  of  dust  rising  slowly  from  the  track  some  two 
miles  southwards.  Walter  advanced  at  a  walking  pace. 
He  was  dressed  with  unusual  care.  His  long  sword 
was  slung  from  a  handsome  baldrick;  Sher  Afghan's 
dagger  shone  in  his  belt;  a  cloak  of  quilted  silk,  trimmed 
with  rich  fur,  hung  from  his  shoulders.  These  acces 
sories,  together  with  his  plumed  hat,  heavy  riding  boots, 
and  attire  of  dark  brown  cloth,  gave  a  distinguished 
appearance  to  one  whose  face  and  figure  proclaimed 
[232] 


The  Great  Mogul 

him  a  cavalier  of  high  lineage.  His  attendant,  too,  had 
donned  the  state  livery  of  his  former  master.  The  two 
were  superbly  mounted,  and  well  calculated,  by  their 
style  and  bearing,  to  take  by  surprise  the  leader  of  a 
rabble  host  marching  through  a  country  where  all  was 
new  to  his  eyes. 

For  Mowbray,  as  shall  be  seen,  had  prepared  his 
measures  judiciously.  When  he  sighted  the  mounted 
vanguard  of  the  convoy  he  clapped  spurs  to  his  horse, 
and,  followed  by  his  orderly,  galloped  towards  them  at 
a  rapid  pace.  Pulling  up  within  a  few  yards  of  the 
astonished  soldiers,  who  were  already  consulting  as  to 
the  identity  and  errand  of  this  unlooked-for  embassy, 
he  shouted  sternly :  — 

"Halt,  in  the  Emperor's  name!  Bring  Abdul  Aziz 
hither  at  once!" 

He  calculated  that  this  assumption  of  authority  would 
not  be  questioned,  nor  was  he  mistaken. 

"It  is  not  known  to  your  honorable  presence  that 
Abdul  Aziz  remains  at  Hughli,"  said  one  who  was  the 
captain  of  the  guard. 

Mowbray  exhibited  well-feigned  surprise. 

"  If  not  Abdul  Aziz  —  for  which  he  may  thank  the 
Prophet  —  who  commands  you  ?  " 

"Nawab  Fateh  Mohammed,  his  nephew,  your  Ex 
cellence." 

"Pass  the  word  to  halt,  then,  and  ride  at  speed  to 
bring  him  hither." 

Fair  Europeans,  particularly  Englishmen,  were  rarer 
than  white  blackbirds  in  India  at  that  period.  The 
[233] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Portuguese  invaders  were,  for  the  most  part,  so  swarthy 
as  to  rival  the  brown  skin  of  the  natives.  Never  had 
the  Musulman  officer  encountered  a  man  of  such  mien 
and  semblance,  who,  moreover,  spoke  the  aristocratic 
language  of  the  court  in  all  its  sonorous  purity.  Never 
theless,  it  was  passing  strange  that  the  Emperor  should 
choose  such  a  messenger. 

"  Forgive  me,  your  Honor,"  he  stammered,  "  but  I 
must  have  some  authority  before  I  — " 

"  Does  Jahangir  need  to  speak  twice  by  my  mouth  ? 
Am  I  to  exhibit  the  seal  of  the  Conqueror  of  the  World 
to  the  first  who  questions  me  ?  " 

The  officer  simply  could  not  withstand  Mowbray's 
grand  air.  He  civilly  asked  the  other  to  await  his 
return,  gave  some  orders  to  the  guard,  and  vanished  in 
the  dust-cloud  which  enshrouded  the  remainder  of  the 
column.  Walter  saw  that  the  troopers  surrounded  him 
as  if  by  accident.  He  paid  not  the  slightest  attention 
to  the  maneuver,  but  took  off  his  hat  and  fanned  his 
face  nonchalantly.  Behind  him,  the  Rajput  sowar  sat 
his  horse  like  a  carved  statue.  Scarce  comprehending 
what  enterprise  was  forward,  knowing  little  save  that 
he  would  surely  swing  from  the  nearest  tree  if  he  kept 
not  a  still  tongue  and  obeyed  orders,  the  native  soldier 
took  his  cue  from  his  master  in  the  matter  of  disre 
garding  the  ring  of  steel  which  girt  them  both. 

But  Nawab  Fateh  Mohammed  must  have  hurried, 
judging  from  the  speed  of  his  approach  on  a  long- 
striding  camel,  which  loomed  out  of  the  dust  so  sud 
denly  that  there  was  barely  time  to  stop  the  lumbering 
[234] 


The  Great  Mogul 

beast  and  avoid  a  collision.  The  nawab  was  a  stout 
man,  though  young,  and  it  was  his  ambition  to  make 
his  way  in  life  quickly.  This  laudable  aim  arose,  how 
ever,  from  a  base  intent.  The  more  wealth  he  amassed 
in  a  little  time  the  more  speedily  could  he  gratify  his 
ignoble  passions.  Such  a  person  is  usually  hectoring 
towards  his  inferiors  and  servile  to  those  above  him. 
At  present  he  was  all  of  a  twitter  owing  to  the  unex 
pected  presence  of  a  messenger  from  the  Emperor, 
whilst  his  informant  had  not  failed  to  apprise  him  of 
Mowbray's  imperative  mien  and  the  half-veiled  menace 
of  his  words. 

Luckily,  Walter  took  the  man's  measure  at  a  glance. 
Here  was  one  designed  by  nature  to  play  the  cowardly 
tyrant,  and  such  a  personality  was  far  better  suited  to 
his  purpose  than  a  straightforward  soldier,  who  would 
have  obeyed  his  own  chief's  instructions  and  cared  not 
for  consequences. 

So  the  soi-disant  courier  of  Jahangir  saluted  the 
nawab  with  dignity  and  said :  — 

"Be  pleased  to  dismount  and  walk  apart  with  me. 
His  Majesty's  words  are  not  for  all  ears." 

Fateh  Mohammed,  although  nervous,  felt  slightly 
flattered.  It  was  new  to  him  to  be  addressed  in  that 
way.  He  glanced  at  the  single  Rajput  trooper  who 
held  Mowbray's  horse,  and  saw  forty  of  his  own  men 
within  instant  call,  so  he  had  no  fear  in  his  mind  other 
than  that  instilled  by  the  vague  threats  conveyed  to  him 
by  the  leader  of  the  guard,  who  now  stood  near  and 
watched  the  nawab  for  a  signal. 
[235] 


The  Great  Mogul 

He  followed  Walter  willingly  enough  until  they  could 
not  be  overheard  if  they  spoke  in  low  tones. 

"Information  has  reached  the  Emperor,"  began 
Walter,  "  that  Abdul  Aziz,  whilst  carrying  out  the  royal 
mandate  to  prevent  the  encroachments  of  Portuguese 
traders  in  Bengal,  attacked  and  burnt  the  settlement 
at  Hughli,  killed  many  of  the  inhabitants,  and  des 
patched  the  survivors,  numbering  some  hundreds,  to 
the  Imperial  court  at  Agra." 

"The  Shadow  of  Allah  did  indeed  —  " 

"Better  hear  me  first,"  interposed  Mowbray,  with  a 
serious  smile.  "It  is  most  fortunate  that  Abdul  Aziz 
himself  does  not  march  with  the  convoy;  otherwise, 
my  mission  would  be  of  a  different  nature.  Of  course, 
you  have  not  heard  of  recent  occurrences  in  the  Em 
peror's  household  ?  " 

"  No,  but  my  uncle  —  " 

"  Even  he  could  not  be  aware  that  the  beautiful  Nur 
Mahal,  whose  fascination  for  Jahangir  is  known  to  all 
India,  would  become  a  widow,  and  hence  regain  her 
ascendency  at  court.  It  is  true.  Her  husband,  Sher 
Afghan,  is  dead.  She  herself  is  Sultana  by  this  time, 
and  her  first  act  has  been  to  free  all  the  European  pris 
oners  in  Agra,  Delhi,  and  other  cities,  whose  bondage 
was  the  result  of  Jahangir's  earlier  policy.  Judge  for 
yourself  what  she  will  say  when  she  hears  of  the  excesses 
committed  by  Abdul  Aziz.  The  Emperor,  knowing 
your  uncle,  dreaded  the  account  of  his  actions,  but  he 
dreads  much  more  the  frown  of  Nur  Mahal.  Hence, 
I  have  been  despatched  with  a  double  mission.  Had 
[236] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Abdul  Aziz  been  present  in  person  I  had  no  choice  but 
to  deal  with  him  harshly.  In  his  absence  it  is  my  more 
pleasant  duty  to  bid  you  explain  to  the  captives  in  your 
charge  that  a  terrible  mistake  has  been  made.  They 
must  be  treated  with  all  courtesy  and  attention,  and, 
indeed,  brought  to  see,  before  they  reach  Agra,  that  it 
is  the  special  design  of  the  Emperor  to  recompense  them 
in  every  way." 

"  Then  they  are  not  to  be  set  at  liberty  ? "  gasped 
Fateh  Mohammed,  who  had  been  so  carried  away  by 
Mowbray's  announcement  that  he  quite  forgot  to  ask 
for  any  verification  of  it. 

"  In  a  sense,  yes.  They  are  to  be  clothed,  fed,  and 
provided  with  means  of  conveyance  in  such  manner  as 
to  show  that  they  are  the  Emperor's  guests.  But  they 
must  go  to  Agra.  It  could  not  be  otherwise.  They 
must  be  maintained  fittingly  until  order  is  restored  in 
Bengal,  their  ruined  houses  rebuilt,  and  means  taken 
to  insure  their  future  safety.  Thus  only  can  Jahangir 
undo  the  evil  deeds  of  Abdul  Aziz." 

"This  intelligence—" 

"  Finds  you  unprepared.  What  is  more  natural  ? 
But  the  downfall  of  one  man  oft  opens  the  door  of 
opportunity  to  another.  The  Emperor  is  free-handed. 
He  rewards  as  fully  as  he  punishes.  Leave  to  me  the 
pleasing  task  of  informing  him  how  quickly  you 
fulfilled  his  behests  to  the  last  letter." 

"It  shall  be  so,  in  very  truth.  Yet  your  lordship 
sees  the  difficulties  that  confront  me." 

"I  am  bidden  help  you  dispel  them.  I  have  money 
[237] 


The  Great  Mogul 

and  fair  words  at  command.  Be  sure  that  neither  a 
mule  nor  a  woman  can  resist  such  pleading.  But  let 
all  clemency  come  through  you  in  the  Emperor's  name." 

Fateh  Mohammed  flushed  deeply  under  his  bronze 
skin.  He  pursed  his  lips  and  set  his  feet  apart.  A 
dazzling  vista  opened  before  his  mind's  eye.  He  pic 
tured  Abdul  Aziz,  whose  severe  tenets  he  loathed  in  so 
far  as  they  restrained  his  own  gross  desires,  swinging 
from  a  nim  tree,  while  a  mourning  nephew  journeyed 
back  in  state  to  take  up  an  assured  position.  Mowbray 
watched  him  narrowly.  He  saw  the  man's  vanity 
puffing  him  up  like  the  frog  in  the  fable,  and  he  could 
scarce  restrain  a  smile  at  the  thought  that,  in  all  prob 
ability,  this  fantastic  scheme  would  actually  result  in 
the  way  he  had  described.  But  it  was  necessary  to 
strike  while  the  iron  glowed,  so  he  continued  impress 
ively:  — 

"  Above  all  things,  keep  your  own  counsel.  You  and 
I  can  be  discreet.  If  others  know  your  mind  they  have 
you  at  a  disadvantage,  for  they  can  shape  their  conduct 
to  further  their  own  ends  while  skilfully  defeating 
yours." 

"The  Emperor's  wishes  shall  be  locked  within  my 

heart,"  said  the  other  in  a  tone  of  absolute  confidence. 

"Tis  well!     I  will  accompany  you  to  the  prisoners 

—  Jahangir's  guests  —  after  despatching  my  attendant 

to  summon  my  escort." 

"Your  escort?" 

"Surely  you  cannot  imagine  that  the  Emperor's 
courier  rode  with  only  one  sowar!  You  see  he  wears 
[238] 


The  Great  Mogul 

the  livery  of  Sher  Afghan,  whose  retinue  is  placed  at 
my  disposal  by  Jahangir's  own  act." 

Fateh  Mohammed  little  guessed  how  literally  true 
this  statement  was.  He  knew  naught  of  affairs  at  Agra, 
nor  was  he  skilled  in  the  new  heraldic  fashions  then 
penetrating  the  East.  But  the  assumption  that  he 
was  an  adept  therein  added  the  last  drop  to  the  cruse 
of  oil  which  had  been  so  judiciously  administered  to 
him. 

Having  ascertained  when  the  escort  might  be  ex 
pected,  he  gave  orders  that  it  was  to  be  received  with 
proper  honor.  As  soon  as  the  sowar  had  ridden  away 
north,  venire  a  terre,  the  two  grandees  mounted  and 
proceeded  slowly  through  the  ranks  of  the  halted 
cavalcade. 

Walter,  chatting  affably  about  the  splendors  of  the 
court,  counted  two  hundred  fairly  serviceable  horsemen, 
and  half  as  many  armed  guards  of  the  baggage  train. 
He  estimated  that  a  similar  number  would  bring  up  the 
rear,  so  the  futility  of  a  surprise  attack  by  night,  which 
Roger  had  suggested,  was  now  quite  demonstrated. 
Even  if  a  panic  were  created  and  the  host  broke  up  in 
disorder,  what  could  be  done  next  day,  and  every  other 
day  for  weeks,  by  twenty  men  burthened  with  a  host 
of  helpless  captives,  for  da  Silva's  account  made  it 
certain  that  nearly  all  the  Portuguese  soldiers  had  fallen 
in  the  first  fierce  fight  at  Hughli.  The  whole  country 
would  be  roused.  Every  Mahomedan  would  deem  it 
a  religious  duty  to  slay  the  Giaours,  and  they  would  all 
perish  miserably.  Yes,  his  amazingly  daring  plan,  now 
[239] 


The  Great  Mogul 

that  the  first  barrier  was  passed,  promised  ultimate 
success,  and  his  heart  throbbed  at  the  thought  that  two 
Englishmen,  alone  and  almost  unfriended  in  a  powerful 
foreign  land,  should  have  adopted  such  a  mad  device 
and  carried  it  triumphantly  to  the  very  gate  of  achieve 
ment. 

For  this  was  his  scheme.  He  counted  that,  long  ere 
this,  Nur  Mahal  was  firmly  established  as  the  despot 
of  a  despot.  He  was  sure  that  a  woman  of  cultured 
and  artistic  tastes  would  sway  the  shallow-minded  King 
back  from  his  retrogade  policy  with  regard  to  other 
nations.  Therefore,  the  instant  Jai  Singh  heard  that 
Fateh  Mohammed  had  taken  the  pill  so  neatly  prepared 
for  him,  the  Rajput  and  a  couple  of  men  would  ride  at 
utmost  speed  to  Agra  and  warn  Nur  Mahal  as  to  the 
way  in  which  Jahangir's  authority  had  been  usurped. 
If  she  did  not  gainsay  it,  but  promised  to  make  smooth 
their  path,  all  would  be  well.  If  aught  untoward  hap 
pened,  Jai  Singh  was  to  collect  as  many  of  Sher  Af 
ghan's  retainers  as  were  available,  and  ambuscade  the 
caravan  at  some  preconcerted  place.  They  would 
endeavor  to  secure  the  escape  of  those  able-bodied 
prisoners  who  could  ride,  the  Europeans  thereafter 
plunging  recklessly  into  Central  India  with  the  hope 
of  reaching  Bombay.  If  not  all,  some  could  be  saved. 

These  alternatives  each  depended  on  Walter's  pri 
mary  success.  If,  however,  Fateh  Mohammed  were 
suspicious  or  actively  hostile  —  it  was  thought  he  would 
not  dare  do  more  than  detain  Mowbray  until  his  pre 
tended  mission  were  justified  or  otherwise  —  then  the 
[240] 


The  Great  Mogul 

only  course  which  remained  open  was  a  surprise  attack 
at  midnight,  of  which  Mowbray  would  privily  warn  all 
whom  he  could  trust  in  order  to  create  a  diversion. 
Here,  obviously,  lay  the  chief  risk  of  failure.  But 
Mowbray  steadily  believed  in  his  theory  that  Nur 
Mahal  would  so  mold  Jahangir's  mind  that  Fateh 
Mohammed  would  be  acclaimed  as  a  most  judicious 
person  when  he  reached  Agra,  and,  by  consequence, 
that  he  himself  and  Sainton  would  have  no  difficulty  in 
proceeding  to  the  west  coast  by  the  direct  overland 
route.  At  any  rate,  granted  the  less  favorable  out 
come,  they  made  sure  of  saving  Fra  Pietro,  who,  after 
all,  most  enlisted  their  sympathies. 

And  now  the  sowar  was  speeding  to  the  agreed  ren 
dezvous  to  apprise  Roger  and  Jai  Singh  that  all  had 
gone  well  thus  far.  No  wonder  Mowbray  felt  elated, 
and  that  his  confident  air  left  room  in  Fateh  Moham 
med's  brain  for  no  shadow  of  suspicion.  But  his 
gaiety,  subdued  and  decorous  as  became  a  person  who 
ranked  high  in  the  trust  of  a  king,  was  rudely  dispelled 
by  the  first  sight  of  the  wo-begone  prisoners.  He  first 
encountered  a  batch  of  men  each  chained  securely  after 
the  manner  in  which  da  Silva  was  manacled,  but  now 
bound  together  by  strips  of  cowhide,  since,  apparently, 
a  few  had  escaped  like  the  half-caste.  They  were 
haggard,  foot-sore  and  in  rags.  Poor  souls,  they  had 
taken  advantage  of  the  unexpected  halt  to  lie  down 
again  in  the  dust.  Such  was  their  misery  that  they  had 
lost  all  human  interest.  They  looked  at  Walter  and 
his  companion  with  lack-luster  eyes,  like  those  on  the 
[241] 


The  Great  Mogul 

point  of  death  who  retain  some  glimmer  of  conscious 
ness  yet  have  already  quitted  the  living  world. 

Fateh  Mohammed,  giving  a  sidelong  glance  at  Jahan- 
gir's  envoy,  saw  the  stern  frown  in  his  face  and  began 
to  explain. 

"Abdul  Aziz  is  a  hard  man,"  he  murmured.  "He 
gave  his  orders  and  I  could  only  obey." 

Mowbray  stifled  his  rage.  He  must  play  his  part  to 
the  end. 

"  Of  course,"  he  said,  "  there  were  difficulties.  This 
is  no  time  to  tell  these  unfortunates  of  the  Emperor's 
regret.  Order  them  to  be  freed  and  given  good  food. 
Then  let  them  rest  all  this  day  until  horses  and  camels 
are  procured  for  to-morrow's  march." 

The  stout  commander  obeyed  instantly,  with  such 
denunciations  of  his  myrmidons  and  such  appeals  to 
the  Prophet  that  his  own  men  deemed  him  temporarily 
insane,  while  some  among  the  unhappy  prisoners  lifted 
their  heads  to  ascertain  if  they  had  heard  aright. 

The  plight  of  the  women  was  not  so  bad.  None  save 
the  young  and  good  looking  had  been  brought  from 
Hughli.  They  were  supplied  with  mules  and  ponies, 
and  were  destined  for  the  zenanas  of  such  court  favo 
rites  as  might  take  a  fancy  to  them.  All  the  older 
women  had  been  massacred  in  cold  blood.  There  were 
girls  who  had  lost  their  mothers,  wives  who  had  seen 
their  husbands  cut  to  pieces  before  their  eyes.  Over 
them,  too,  brooded  a  settled  despair.  Tears  had  long 
been  dried.  There  remained  only  a  haunting  terror  of 
the  future. 

[242] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Prominent  among  them,  if  only  on  account  of  the 
richness  of  her  soiled  garments,  was  the  Countess  di 
Cabota.  Although  she  was,  in  Eastern  eyes,  bewitching 
by  reason  of  her  fair  skin,  large  brown  eyes,  and  ex 
ceedingly  plump  figure,  she  was  undoubtedly  over 
thirty  years  of  age.  Hence,  she  owed  her  life  to  that 
which  many  another  woman  risks  her  life  to  avoid, 
namely,  a  somewhat  too  pronounced  development  of  a 
figure  naturally  inclined  to  solidity. 

The  unhappy  lady  —  perhaps  by  subtle  operation  of 
the  principle  noblesse  oblige  —  retained  some  degree 
of  vivacity.  Her  glance  no  sooner  fell  on  Mowbray 
than  she  cried  in  Portuguese :  — 

"  Mother  of  mercy !     An  Englishman  of  rank ! " 

Walter  doffed  his  hat  with  ceremonious  politeness. 

"A  friend,  too,  I  trust,  Countess,"  he  said.  "You 
may  believe  that,  from  this  moment,  your  sufferings 
have  ended." 

" Misericordia !  how  can  that  be?" 

"His  excellency  the  Nawab  Fateh  Mohammed  will 
explain  better  than  it  is  possible  for  me  to  do." 

Thus  impelled,  his  "Excellency"  did,  indeed,  give 
the  Countess  and  her  companions  a  cheering  message, 
which  the  half-caste  women  joyfully  interpreted  for 
those  who  did  not  follow  the  native  words  with  complete 
understanding.  Then,  after  many  days,  some  broken 
hearts  found  relief  again  in  tears. 

At  last,  not  venturing  to  search  too  eagerly,  yet 
missing  none  he  passed  in  this  Via  Dolorosa,  Mowbray 
found  the  Franciscan.  Utterly  spent,  unable  to  move 
[243] 


The  Great  Mogul 

one  foot  before  the  other,  Fra  Pietro  would  have  been 
dead  a  week  gone  had  not  some  bullock-driver,  whose 
crushed  fingers  he  had  dressed,  lifted  him  into  a  grain 
cart  and  kept  him  there  in  defiance  of  repeated  advice 
to  throw  the  Giaour  into  the  jungle  and  let  him  glut 
the  jackals. 

Nevertheless,  the  good  monk,  broken  in  body  and 
exhausted  for  want  of  food  suited  to  his  condition,  had 
not  benefited  greatly  by  the  jolting  repose  thus  given 
him.  He  was  still  exceedingly  ill,  and  when  Mowbray, 
who  knew  him  instantly,  could  not  refrain  from  leaping 
to  the  ground  and  bending  over  him,  the  parched  blue- 
white  lips  were  moving  in  fitful  prayer:  — 

"De  profundis  clamavi  ad  te,  Domine!  .  .  .  Dona 
me  requiem  seternam  .  .  .  Ostende  me,  Domine,  miseri- 
cordiam  tuam!" 

"The  Lord  has  heard  thee,  good  friend,  though 
happily  thy  days  of  eternal  rest  may  be  long  deferred 
for  the  good  of  mankind,"  murmured  Walter  to  him 
self,  for  he  dared  not  be  too  openly  recognized  by  the 
Franciscan,  lest  Fateh  Mohammed  should  be  moved 
to  ponder  upon  all  that  had  taken  place. 

Yet  something  must  be  done,  and  quickly,  too,  if  that 
flickering  soul  were  to  stay  in  its  earthly  tabernacle. 

He  turned  to  the  nawab. 

"  Here  is  one  who,  I  have  good  reason  to  believe,  will 
be  highly  esteemed  by  the  Sultana.  He  should  be  carried 
to  a  tent,  given  a  little  wine  and  milk,  and  receive  the 
most  careful  attendance.  If,  indeed,  his  name  be  Fra 
Pietro,  his  life  is  of  the  utmost  value  to  all  concerned." 
[244] 


The  Great  Mogul 

At  each  moment  Fateh  Mohammed  saw  how  essen- 
tail  it  was  to  adopt  prompt  measures  if  he  were  to  earn 
the  good  will  of  this  masterful  envoy.  He  bestirred 
himself  now  to  such  effect  that  when  Roger  and  the 
remaining  Rajputs,  including  the  three  left  in  the  vil 
lage  (whence  da  Silva  was  advised  to  go  down  the  river 
in  one  of  the  boats),  marched  into  the  camp,  there  was 
an  air  of  liveliness  among  the  Europeans  long  absent 
from  their  tortured  existence,  whilst  Fra  Pietro  was 
sleeping  peacefully  on  a  couch  of  soft  furs. 

Sainton's  arrival  created  the  customary  stir.  By 
none  was  he  gazed  on  with  greater  interest  than  by  the 
Countess  di  Cabota.  She  vowed,  by  all  the  saints,  she 
had  never  seen  such  a  man,  and  likened  him  to  the 
terrible  Archangel  who  defied  the  fiends  when  they 
would  have  assaulted  heaven. 

To  Fateh  Mohammed  the  sight  of  this  unexampled 
specimen  of  humanity,  joined  to  the  appointments  and 
smart  appearance  of  Sher  Afghan's  horsemen,  gave  the 
last  proof,  if  further  proof  were  needed,  that  Jahangir's 
delegate  was  indeed  a  person  to  be  treated  with  defer 
ence.  He  became  doglike  in  his  servility,  and  trans 
formed  his  train  from  a  band  of  ruffianly  jailers  into  a 
troupe  of  servitors,  each  and  all  being  anxious  to  win 
the  friendship  of  those  whom  formerly  they  goaded  to 
madness  or  insensibility. 

Mowbray's  word  was  law,  his  least  wish  was  executed. 

Within  three  days,  after  fraternizing  judiciously  with 

others,  he  and  Sainton  were  able  to  visit  Fra  Pietro. 

The  meeting  between  them  was  joyful  indeed.     The 

[245] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Franciscan,  when  he  regained  faculties  bewildered  by 
recognition  of  them,  was  moved  to  tears.  To  him, 
because  he  spoke  English,  they  could  talk  without 
reserve,  and  his  breath  came  fast  with  alarm  when  he 
learned  what  they  had  done  for  him. 

"  Nay,  nay ! "  protested  Roger,  "  fear  not  that  we  shall 
come  to  an  ill  end  because  we  took  a  risk  on  your 
account.  They  tell  me  you  are  here  owing  to  the  timely 
aid  you  gave  us,  and,  by  that  same  token,  our  arch 
enemy,  Dom  Geronimo,  is  now  laid  by  the  heels  at  Agra. 
I  know  not  who  cast  the  net  which  gathered  us  all  in 
this  God-forgotten  land,  but,  by  the  cross  of  Osmoth- 
erly,  he  hath  hauled  together  some  queer  fish." 

"  Have  you  met  Dom  Geronimo  ?  Does  he  know  of 
your  presence  in  India  ?  " 

"  Trust  him  for  that.  He  hath  the  sight  of  a  vulture 
where  friend  Mowbray  is  concerned." 

"  I  attribute  to  him  some  part  of  the  bad  fortune  which 
has  pursued  us,"  said  Walter,  and,  the  topic  thus 
broached,  he  gave  the  Franciscan  a  full  account  of  all 
occurrences  since  Roger  and  he  first  crossed  the  portals 
of  Dilkusha. 

The  monk  listened  intently,  only  interposing  a  ques 
tion  at  times  when  the  changeful  moods  of  Nur  Mahal 
seemed  to  puzzle  him.  He  was  surprised  to  learn 
that  the  Jesuit  had  succeeded,  even  temporarily,  in 
gaining  the  ear  of  Jahangir,  for,  as  he  said  in  his  mild 
way:  — 

"Dom  Geronimo  is  too  zealous.  It  was  his  intem 
perate  acts  which  unfitted  him  for  the  Holy  Office  in 
[246] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Europe,  and  he  was  despatched  to  India,  a  country 
which  offered  a  more  suitable  field  for  one  whose  fiery 
ardor  knew  no  bounds.  Therefore,  it  is  hard  to  see 
how  such  a  man  could  win  his  way  with  the  Emperor." 

When,  after  conversing  until  a  late  hour,  Fra  Pietro 
thoroughly  understood  the  nature  of  their  present  under 
taking,  he  again  urged  them  to  consider  the  danger  they 
incurred. 

"  You  have  already  done  more  than  I  thought  possible 
for  mortal  man  to  achieve,"  he  said.  "Why  not,  on 
some  good  pretext,  ride  on  in  front  of  the  column  and 
leave  the  success  or  failure  of  your  scheme  in  the  hands 
of  Providence?  If  all  goes  well  we  shall  be  treated 
with  the  same  consideration.  Should  there  be  aught 
amiss  you  will  be  far  away  on  the  road  to  the  sea." 

"  Where  your  life  is  at  issue,  we  bide  with  you  and 
you  with  us  until  the  die  is  cast,"  said  Walter,  firmly. 
Then  they  left  him,  carrying  with  them  his  blessing,  and 
regained  the  spacious  tent  allotted  to  their  use  by  the 
obsequious  Fateh  Mohammed.  They  slept  soundly  at 
night,  and  were  not  troubled  by  anxious  forebodings. 
Jai  Singh  and  his  followers  could  not  reach  them  on  the 
return  from  Agra  for  at  least  ten  more  days  at  the  best 
rate  of  traveling.  Not  until  they  had  his  budget  could 
they  decide  definitely  as  to  their  future. 

But  these  things  are  oft  settled  for  men  by  a  Power 
to  whom  the  comings  and  goings  of  a  Jai  Singh  are  of 
little  account.  And  it  was  so  now,  for,  when  Mowbray 
and  Sainton  awoke  in  the  morning,  they  found  their 
swords  removed,  their  daggers  withdrawn  from  the 
[247] 


The  Great  Mogul 

sheaths,  and  they  saw  twenty  muskets  leveled  at  them 
through  the  open  door  of  the  tent. 

Behind  the  file  of  musketeers  stood  Fateh  Moham 
med,  livid  with  rage,  yet  with  a  certain  gratified  malice 
sparkling  in  his  eyes. 

"Ohe,"  he  yelled,  when  Roger,  missing  his  sword, 
gazed  steadily  at  the  phalanx  without,  "  ohe,  Elephant, 
thy  tricks  have  led  thee  into  the  kheddah.*  Stir  hand 
or  foot,  resist  those  who  will  bind  thee  by  so  much  as  a 
refusal  to  submit  thy  limbs  to  the  fetters,  and  thou 
«halt  be  pierced  by  a  dozen  balls." 

Walter,  roused  by  the  bellowing,  raised  himself  on 
one  arm.  Instantly  he  realized  that  Fateh  Mohammed 
Jiad  found  out  the  ruse  of  which  he  was  the  dupe. 

"Roger,"  said  he,  quietly,  "we  have  been  betrayed!" 

"Aye,  lad,  and  by  a  woman,  I  fear.  What  sayest 
thou  ?  Shall  we  die  here  or  in  Agra  ?  " 

"I  care  little.     Have  it  which  way  you  will." 

*  The  enclosure  in  which  wild  elephants  are  captured, 


[248] 


CHAPTER  XV 

"Bring  me  to  the  test, 

And  I  the  matter  will  re- word,  which  madness 
Would  gamble  from." 

Hamlet,  Act  III,  Sc.  4. 

PERCHANCE  they  had  dared  the  certain  death  which 
faced  them  had  not  Fateh  Mohammed  spoken  again. 
Vain  as  he  was,  and  furious  at  the  thought  that  a 
Feringhi  should  have  lorded  it  over  him  for  days,  he 
was  held  in  leash  by  the  written  orders  of  the  Emperor, 
which,  this  time,  he  had  really  received  and  read  with 
bulging  eyes. 

"  I  am  bidden,"  he  said,  "  bring  you  to  Agra,  alive  if 
possible.  Hence,  though  clemency  ill  accords  with  my 
present  mood,  I  offer  you  terms.  Suffer  my  men  to 
bind  you  securely  —  for  none  would  be  such  a  fool  as 
to  trust  that  Man-Elephant  at  large  —  and  I  will  have 
you  carried  in  litters.  Refusal  means  instant  death  to 
both." 

"  Hast  thou  suddenly  gone  mad,  Fateh  Mohammed  ?  '* 
demanded  Mowbray,  thinking,  by  a  display  of  boldness, 
to  save  the  situation  even  at  the  twelfth  hour. 

"Aye,  mad,  indeed,  to  accept  the  word  of  the  King  of 
Kings  from  the  mouth  of  an  unbeliever!     Oh,  thou 
Feringhi  dog,  open  thy  lips  again  in  defiance  and  I  will 
make  thee  a  sieve  for  bullets!" 
[249] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Walter  knew  that  the  bubble  of  his  pretense  was 
pricked.  Some  bolt  had  fallen  from  a  blue  sky,  else 
this  subservient  rogue  would  never  venture  to  bluster 
in  such  wise  if  he  feared  reprisals.  Nevertheless,  the 
contempt  inspired  by  the  groundling  served  the  Eng 
lishman  in  good  stead  at  a  critical  moment. 

"Thou  shalt  be  most  bitterly  enlightened  ere  many 
days  have  passed,"  he  said.  "  Sainton-sahib  and  I  can 
do  naught  at  present  but  yield  to  your  demands,  yet  I 
warn  thee,  Fateh  Mohammed,  that  for  each  second  of 
ill-treatment  meted  out  to  us  or  to  the  unhappy  people 
brought  from  Hughli  thou  shalt  be  requited  by  an  hour 
of  torture  on  thy  unwieldy  carcass." 

Here  was  defiance,  truly,  from  one  whose  capture, 
living  or  dead,  Jahangir's  couriers,  riding  hot-foot  in 
pursuit,  had  demanded  an  hour  earlier  when  they  came 
at  dawn  to  Fateh  Mohammed's  tent.  These  men 
carried  no  tidings  save  the  Emperor's  warrant  for  their 
action.  They  knew,  they  said,  that  Sher  Afghan  was 
slain  —  it  was  even  rumored  that  the  companion  of  the 
Hathi-sahib  was  concerned  in  the  deed  —  and  that  his 
widow  had  gone  towards  Burdwan  with  the  two 
Feringhis.  As  for  the  statement  that  Jahangir  had 
charged  these  latter  with  a  mission,  it  was  manifestly 
absurd  in  view  of  his  eagerness  to  secure  their  arrest, 
while  it  was  impossible  that  anyone  so  far  south  could 
be  aware  of  Nur  Mahal's  fortunes  at  Agra,  seeing  that 
they,  the  messengers,  had  passed  her  returning  escort 
privily  by  night,  being  urged  thereto  by  the  Chief 
Eunuch,  who  accompanied  her.  Indeed,  the  Eunuch, 
[250] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Ibrahim,  was  responsible  for  the  Emperor's  action, 
having  sent  a  private  report  to  Jahangir,  by  carrier 
pigeon  it  was  thought. 

It  was  on  their  advice  that  Fateh  Mohammed  had 
adopted  irresistible  safeguards  ere  he  summoned  the 
Englishmen  to  surrender.  The  bazaar  gossip  of  Agra 
had  invested  Roger  Sainton  with  a  legendary  halo 
which  would  daunt  the  bravest  heart.  No  half  meas 
ures  could  be  taken  with  the  Hathi-sahib,  said  the 
King's  chuprassis:  he  must  Cither  be  killed  or  bound 
as  one  would  tie  a  wild  bull. 

Now,  it  was  distasteful,  above  all  things,  for  men  who 
had  been  treated  with  the  utmost  deference  during 
many  days  to  permit  themselves  to  be  led  forth  in 
fetters.  The  bare  thought  of  such  ignominy  sent  the 
blood  bounding  through  Mowbray's  veins  and  caused 
an  ominous  frown  to  deepen  in  Sainton's  face.  The 
big  Yorkshireman  stood  close  to  the  tent-pole;  had 
Walter  deferred  further  speech  for  another  tick  of  a 
clock,  the  tent  had  been  torn  from  its  supports  and 
Roger  had  either  fallen  or  knocked  down  a  dozen  of  the 
waiting  musketeers.  But  he  heard  his  friend  say 
quietly :  — 

"  Hearken  to  me,  Fateh  Mohammed.  If  one  of  us, 
speaking  in  haste,  has  used  injurious  words,  let  them 
be  forgotten.  You  have  your  orders  —  assuredly  they 
must  be  obeyed.  Sainton-sahib  and  I  are  already 
disarmed.  You  probably  disarmed  our  escort  ere  you 
came  to  us.  We,  on  our  part,  pledge  ourselves  to  go 
with  you  to  the  fort  at  Agra.  Under  no  circumstances 
[251] 


The  Great  Mogul 

shall  we  seek  to  escape,  and  we  will  counsel  all  others 
who  may  be  guided  by  our  admonitions  to  give  the 
same  gage.  If  you  are  the  wise  and  far-seeing  man  I 
take  you  to  be  you  will  content  yourself  with  this 
promise,  and  treat  us  and  the  remainder  of  the  Euro 
peans  with  due  courtesy.  What  say  you  ?  Shall  the 
Emperor  upbraid  you  for  faithfully  carrying  out  your 
charge,  or  do  you  care  to  risk  the  unknown  dangers  of 
flaunting  the  wishes  of  one  who,  for  anything  you  or  I 
know  to  the  contrary,  may  now  be  Sultana?" 

Fateh  Mohammed,  though  naturally  distrustful  of 
the  honeyed  poison  of  Mowbray's  counsel,  felt  in  his 
heart  of  hearts  that  the  Giaour  was  not  only  giving  him 
good  advice  but  making  a  fair  offer.  Yet,  like  a  cur 
which  cowers  and  snarls  when  a  determined  hand 
would  stroke  it,  he  said  sullenly :  — 

'  'How  am  I  to  place  trust  in  you  ?  You  told  me — " 
"I  told  you  what  I  truly  believed,  and  still  believe, 
to  be  the  Emperor's  intent,"  interrupted  Walter,  who 
saw  that  the  fat  man  was  weakened  by  the  bare  hint  of 
palace  intrigue.  "Look  back  through  my  words  and 
you  will  find  no  single  phrase  in  which  I  actually  rep 
resented  myself  as  charged  with  a  mission  by  Jahangir 
himself.  Nay,  be  not  so  amazed.  It  is  true.  You 
may  have  been  misled,  I  admit,  but  it  was  a  most 
fortunate  mistake  for  you.  Did  I  not  meet  you  almost 
alone?  Have  we  not  marched  with  you  daily  and 
slept  nightly  on  the  same  camping-ground  ?  If  Sainton- 
sahib  and  I  wished  to  betray  you,  have  we  not  passed  a 
hundred  opportunities  ?  " 

[252] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Fateh  Mohammed  was  manifestly  uneasy.  The 
affair  was  not  so  simple  as  he  deemed  it.  Moreover, 
by  placing  a  degree  of  faith  in  Mowbray,  he  applied 
salve  to  his  own  wounded  vanity.  In  simple  parlance, 
if  he  managed  things  aright  now,  he  would  not  look 
such  a  dupe  in  the  eyes  of  others  as  he  was  in  his  own 
estimation. 

"Never  was  man  more  perplexed,"  he  murmured. 
"  You  may  be  honest !  How  can  I  tell  ?  Certainly, 
the  King  of  Kings  does  not  say  you  are  to  be  treated 
with  contumely,  yet,  what  security  have  I  that  you  will 
act  according  to  your  promises?" 

Mowbray  resolved  to  risk  all  on  a  final  hazard.  He 
turned  to  Roger. 

"  Give  me  the  cedar  box,"  he  said. 

The  big  man  reached  for  his  hat.  Cunningly  tied 
inside  the  lofty  crown  was  the  gift  of  Nur  Mahal. 

"I  am  a  heavy  sleeper,"  he  grinned  in  explanation, 
"and  I  thought  none  would  search  there  though  they 
might  scour  my  clothes.  When  waking,  I  reckoned  to 
hold  the  gew-gaws  whilst  my  brains  were  undisturbed, 
so  I  kept  them  under  the  same  thatch." 

"  Here ! "  cried  Mowbray,  opening  the  box  and  hand 
ing  it  to  Fateh  Mohammed,  "  these  diamonds  are  worth 
a  lakh  and  a  half  of  rupees.  They  shall  be  my  bond." 

To  a  native  of  India,  such  a  guarantee  was  worth  a 
thousand  oaths.  Fateh  Mohammed  might  be  trusted 
to  take  this  view  and  none  other.  The  production  of  a 
hidden  hoard  showed  that  this  most  enigmatical  Eng 
lishman  was  really  in  earnest.  It  needed  only  a  glance 
[253] 


The  Great  Mogul 

to  assure  him  that  the  gems  were  worth  the  sum  named, 
and  more.  His  voice  was  thick  as  he  answered :  — 

"Soul  of  the  Prophet!  you  give  me  a  worthy 
bail!" 

"You  think  so!  See  to  it  that  the  box  and  its  con 
tents  are  well  cared  for.  If  not  I,  Nur  Mahal  knows 
each  stone.  And  now,  if  we  are  to  march  ere  the  hot 
hours,  let  us  eat." 

Promising  to  observe  his  part  of  the  compact,  Fateh 
Mohammed  withdrew  his  imposing  array  of  soldiers. 
Soon,  a  servant  brought  them  some  food,  curried 
chickens  and  rice,  with  new  milk,  eggs,  and  bread. 
Not  a  word  did  they  exchange  until  they  had  eaten, 
for  Mowbray  was  dismayed  by  the  collapse  of  his 
scheme,  and  he  dared  not  seek  from  his  loyal  comrade 
the  forgiveness  which  would  be  only  too  readily  ex 
tended  to  him.  Their  fortune  as  good  as  lost,  their 
lives  in  imminent  jeopardy,  their  honor  pledged  to 
render  themselves  up  to  the  spite  of  an  implacable 
tyrant,  and  all  because  he  trusted  more  to  the  machina 
tions  of  a  beautiful  siren  than  to  the  good  swords  of 
which  they  were  deprived.  Truly,  the  outlook,  hazard 
ous  enough  before,  was  now  desperate  beyond  descrip 
tion.  No  wonder  Walter  ate  silently,  fearing  to  trust 
his  gloomy  thoughts  to  language. 

Suddenly  Roger  cried :  — 

"Gad,  these  Paradise  birds  are  rare  eating!" 

"Birds  of  Paradise,  man!  They  are  but  common 
fowls." 

"  Never,  on  your  life,  Walter!  This  mun  be  Heaven, 
[254] 


The  Great  Mogul 

for  sure.  I  heard  the  gates  click  when  the  musketeers 
cocked  their  flints." 

After  all,  that  was  the  best  way  to  take  their  misfor 
tunes.  As  Roger  said  to  Fra  Pietro,  when,  later,  they 
told  him  the  news  which  camp  rumor  had  twisted  into 
grotesque  form :  — 

"  It  is  your  turn  now,  most  worthy  friar.  '  Fight 
first  and  pray  afterwards'  has  ever  been  my  honored 
motto,  but  from  fighting  I  am  debarred  both  by  loss  of 
my  sword  and  by  perjury  of  my  good  name.  Pray, 
then,  brother,  in  every  tongue  thou  knowest,  and 
mayhap  the  Lord  will  list  unto  thee." 

Mowbray  sought  an  opportunity  to  question  Jahan- 
gir's  emissaries.  Their  statements  showed  that  Jai 
Singh  must  have  passed  them  in  Allahabad.  The 
Kotwal  of  that  city  urged  them  to  keep  to  the  road, 
and  inquire  at  each  large  town  if  boats  carrying  men 
and  horses  had  passed  down  stream.  In  that  way  they 
could  make  sure  of  intercepting  the  fugitives. 

"How  came  you  to  slip  so  quietly  away  from  the 
camp  of  Nur  Mahal  ? "  he  asked,  but  to  this  they 
replied  vaguely,  so  Mowbray  concluded  that  the  Chief 
Eunuch  had  bribed  them  to  silence,  in  which  event  it 
were  best  not  to  tell  them  of  Fateh  Mohammed's 
admission. 

They  said,  frankly  enough,  that  had  any  chance  led 
them  to  miss  the  Hughli  contingent,  the  first  intimation 
of  the  Emperor's  wishes  would  only  have  been  forth 
coming  at  Allahabad,  where  the  Kotwal  must  have 
recognized  the  sahibs.  Walter  reflected  ruefully  that, 
[255] 


The  Great  Mogul 

had  he  bribed  this  man  to  silence,  he  might  have 
despatched  the  messengers  on  a  hopeless  chase  by 
river.  It  was  now  too  late.  Although  so  much  de 
pended  on  Jai  Singh's  journey  to  Nur  Mahal,  he  was 
bound  irrevocably  to  go  on  to  Agra,  and  must  veto 
the  rescue  which  the  gallant  Rajput  would  undoubt 
edly  attempt  should  matters  at  court  be  not  to  his 
liking. 

It  was  an  inglorious  end  to  an  undertaking  which 
opened  so  auspiciously.  The  sole  consolation  Mow- 
bray  could  derive  from  soul-wearying  thought  as  to  the 
future  arose  from  the  certain  relief  he  had  given  to  the 
unhappy  captives.  From  the  depths  of  misery  the  Por 
tuguese  were  raised  to  a  level  of  comparative  comfort, 
whilst  Fra  Pietro  had  assuredly  been  snatched  from 
the  very  jaws  of  death. 

So,  at  last,  Walter  resolved  to  abandon  useless  grop- 
ings  against  the  veil  which  shrouded  the  days  to  come. 
He  made  himself  as  agreeable  as  might  be  to  Fateh 
Mohammed,  and  so  played  upon  the  latter's  ambitious 
dreams  that  not  even  the  hostile  Kotwal  of  Allahabad 
was  able  to  disturb  the  arrangement  into  which  they 
had  mutually  entered. 

The  column  crawled  up  country  at  a  slow  rate,  for 
such  a  mixed  company  travels  perforce  at  the  pace  of 
its  most  dawdling  units.  Fifteen  miles  was  a  good 
day's  march,  and,  where  a  river  barred  the  road,  many 
hours  were  wasted  in  safely  transferring  men  and 
animals  from  bank  to  bank. 

And  now,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  Roger  Sainton 
[256] 


The  Great  Mogul 

fell  under  petticoat  dominance.  Buen  principio,  la 
mitad  es  hecha  —  "Well  begun  is  half  done" — says 
the  Spanish  proverb,  and  certainly  the  Hathi-sahib 
made  a  good  start. 

The  Countess  di  Cabota  professed  that  she  never 
felt  safe  from  the  perils  of  the  way  unless  the  big 
Yorkshireman  held  her  mule's  bridle.  He  beguiled 
the  hours  by  improving  her  English,  of  which  language 
she  already  had  a  fair  knowledge;  she  repaid  him  by 
many  a  bright  smile,  and  displayed  a  most  touching 
assiduity  in  mastering  the  broad  vowels  and  quaint 
phrases  of  his  speech,  for  Roger's  slow  diction  was  the 
pure  Anglo-Saxon  which  yet  passes  current  in  his  native 
dale. 

They  were  thrown  together  the  more  that  Walter 
sought  distraction  from  troubled  reverie  in  learned 
discourse  with  Fra  Pietro,  and  for  this  sort  of  talk 
Roger  had  no  stomach.  Once  Mowbray  rallied  the 
giant  on  the  score  of  the  attention  he  paid  to  the  buxom 
Countess,  but  Roger  countered  aptly. 

"F  faith,"  he  said,  "she  is  a  merry  soul,  and  not 
given  to  love  vaporings  like  most  of  her  sex.  She  tells 
me  her  heart  troubled  her  somewhat  before  she  married, 
but  the  fit  passed  quickly,  and  now  she  will  be  well 
content  if  the  Lord  sends  her  home  to  wholesome  fare 
and  a  down  pillow.  After  that,  commend  me  to  a  fat 
woman  for  horse  sense.  Your  scraggy  ones,  with 
saucer  eyes,  would  rather  a  love  philter  than  a  pint  of 
wine,  but  set  down  a  stoup  of  both  before  her  Ladyship 
and  I'll  wager  our  lost  box  of  diamonds  that  she'll  spill 
[257] 


The  Great  Mogul 

the  potion  on  the  ground  and  the  good  liquor  down  her 
throat." 

"  At  last,  then,  you  have  found  a  woman  who  marches 
with  your  humor?" 

"  I'm  not  one  to  judge  such  a  matter  quickly,"  mur 
mured  Roger  with  a  dubious  frown.  "They're  full  of 
guile  at  the  best,  yet  I  vow  it  pleases  me  to  hear  Matilda 
say  '  Caramba ! '  to  her  mule.  It  minds  me  of  my 
mother  rating  a  lie-abed  maid  of  a  Monday  morning. 
'Drat  you  for  a  huzzy,'  she  would  cry,  'here  is  six  by 
the  clock  already!  To-morrow's  Tuesday  an'  next 
day's  Wednesday —  half  t'  week  gone  an'  nowt  done!": 

"So  the  lady's  name  is  Matilda?" 

"  Aye !  She  has  a  lot  more,  but  I  fancied  the  sound  of 
that  yen." 

"  Surely  you  do  not  address  her  so  familiarly  ?  " 

"  And  why  not  ?  Gad !  she  calls  me  Roger,  pat  as  a 
magpie  with  a  split  tongue." 

"This  is  news  indeed.  Yet  you  tell  me  she  is  not 
inclined  to  tender  passages  ?  " 

"Tender  fiddle-de-dee!  She  laughs  like  a  mime  if 
I  tickle  her  ribs  with  my  thumb  when  the  mule  stumbles. 
My  soul,  Walter,  you  are  grown  so  used  to  every  woman 
making  sheep's  eyes  at  you  that  you  think  they'll  treat 
a  hulk  like  me  after  the  same  daft  fashion." 

"In  truth,"  said  Mowbray,  sadly,  "my  courtships 
have  been  all  too  brief,  and  threaten  to  end  in  aught 
save  laughter." 

"Nay,  nay,  lad.     Let  not  thy  spirits  fail.     I  cannot 
but  think  that  you  and  I  shall  scent  the  moors  again 
[258] 


The  Great  Mogul 

together.  We  have  driven  our  pigs  to  queer  markets; 
mayhap  we  shall  sty  them  yet,  despite  this  cross-eyed 
Emperor  and  that  fly-by-night,  Nur  Mahal." 

"  I  have  dreamed  of  home  in  my  sleep  of  late.  Me- 
thought  I  saw  my  mother  weeping." 

"  'Tis  well.  They  say  dreams  go  by  contrary.  Were 
it  otherwise,  has  she  not  good  cause  to  greet  ?  By  the 
Lord  Harry,  when  we  show  our  noses  in  Wensleydale, 
my  auld  dam  will  clout  my  lugs.  'Roger,  you  good- 
for-nowt,'  she  will  say,  '  I  tellt  ye  te  keep  Master  Mow- 
bray  frae  harm,  and  here  hev'  ye  led  him  tiv  a  pleace 
wheer  t'  grass  grows  downwards  and  t'  foxes  fly  i'  t' 
air.  I'm  fair  shammed  on  ye!'  Eh,  man,  but  I'll  be 
glad  to  hear  her  tongue  clack  i'  that  gait." 

And  with  this  cheerful  dictum  Sainton  strode  away 
to  bewilder  and  amuse  the  Countess  di  Cabota  with 
his  amazing  lingo.  Although  they  were  now  enjoying 
the  glorious  cold  weather  of  India,  the  absence  of  wind 
and  the  brilliant  sun  of  the  Doab  served  to  render  the 
midday  hours  somewhat  sultry.  Her  Ladyship,  being 
plump,  complained  of  weariness. 

"You  have  a  most  excellent  color,"  said  Roger, 
eyeing  her  critically. 

She  sighed. 

"  It  may  be,"  said  she,  "  that  as  we  are  near  Agra  my 
heart  droops.  What  manner  of  man  is  Jahangir  ?  Is 
he  of  a  generous  and  princely  disposition  ?  " 

"If  he  takes  after  his  father  he  should  be  open- 
handed  with  other  folks'  money.  I  know  him  to  be  a 
fine  judge  of  a  woman,  which  is  a  right  royal  attribute; 
[259] 


The  Great  Mogul 

but  he  drinks  freely,  a  better  quality  in  a  sponge  than 
in  a  king." 

"Sancta  Maria!  A  spendthrift,  a  libertine,  and  a 
sot !  What  hope  have  we  of  such  a  one  ?  " 

Roger  laid  a  huge  paw  on  her  shoulder,  and  his 
merry  eyes  looked  down  into  hers  although  she  was 
riding  a  fair  sized  mule. 

"  Be  not  cast  down,  Matilda ! "  he  cried.  "  If  the  sky 
were  cloudy  you  would  not  vow  the  sun  would  ne'er 
shine  again.  I  observed  it  was  hotter  in  coming  to  the 
Line  than  under  the  Line  itself.  Here,  Got  wot,  it  is 
hottest  of  all,  yet  fear  and  fancy  may  be  worse  bogies 
than  fact." 

For  some  reason,  his  hopeful  philosophy  did  not 
console  the  lady  that  morning.  She  leaned  a  little 
against  his  arm,  and  glistening  tears  suddenly  dimmed 
her  vision. 

"  Alas ! "  she  sobbed,  "  we  are  all  going  to  our  death, 
and  you,  good  Roger,  have  risked  your  life  to  no  pur 
pose." 

"  Then  shall  I  die  in  good  company,  a  thing  much  to 
be  commended.  He  that  went  to  the  grave  with 
Elisha  recovered  his  breath  owing  to  his  lodging." 

She  straightened  herself  in  the  saddle. 

"I  like  not  this  talk  of  dying,"  she  snapped. 

"  Gad,  it  is  not  greatly  to  my  mind  on  a  fine  morning 
after  a  hearty  meal.  When  I  can  strike  no  longer  may 
I  fall  handsomely,  say  I.  Yet  I  thought  you  were  bent 
on  chewing  the  unsavory  morsel,  though,  to  be  sure, 
you  mainly  use  your  teeth  to  vastly  better  purpose." 
[260] 


The  Great  Mogul 

She  glanced  up  at  him,  clearing  her  eyes  defiantly. 

"You  make  no  allowance  for  a  woman's  feelings," 
she  said.  "Did  I  not  know  the  contrary,  I  should 
believe  you  held  women  of  no  account." 

"I'  faith,  that  would  be  doing  me  an  injustice. 
When  a  woman  says  '  Lack-a-day,'  my  tongue  wags  in 
sympathy.  If  she  weeps,  my  heart  grows  as  soft  as  a 
fuzz-ball." 

"  Fuzz-ball !  That  is  a  word  you  have  not  yet  taught 
me,"  she  said. 

"It  much  resembles  a  round  mushroom,  and  when 
dry,  it  bursts  if  you  squeeze  it." 

"Oh,  go  to!     I  never  before  met  your  like." 

She  laughed,  though  there  was  a  spice  of  irritation  in 
her  mirth,  but  Roger  gripped  her  round  the  waist,  for 
the  mule,  more  perceptive  than  the  man,  stumbled  at 
the  right  moment.  To  comfort  her,  he  gave  her  a 
reassuring  hug. 

"There  is  naught  of  the  fuzz-ball  about  thee,  Ma 
tilda,"  he  vowed,  and  the  Countess  laughed  again. 
But  she  blushed,  too,  and  murmured  in  her  own 
language : — 

"After  all,  the  truest  romance  is  more  than  half  a 
comedy." 

One  night,  when  the  cavalcade  was  halted  in  the 
very  village  whence  Nur  Mahal  had  turned  northwards 
with  such  quick  vagary,  an  owl  hooted  from  the  depths 
of  a  nim  tree.  The  weird  note  thrice  boomed  unheeded 
through  the  air,  for  all  in  the  camp  were  weary,  but, 
when  the  mournful  cry  rang  out  for  the  fourth  time, 
[261] 


The  Great  Mogul 

one  of  Sher  Afghan's  Rajputs  raised  himself  quietly 
from  his  bed  of  leaves  and  listened. 

At  the  fifth  hoot  he  glanced  around  and  saw  that 
none  other  was  disturbed.  He  rose  and  sauntered 
quietly  towards  the  tree,  in  whose  deep  shade  he  was 
lost  for  a  little  while.  He  returned,  and  with  him  now 
walked  another  Rajput.  The  two  reached  the  camp- 
fire  around  which  lay  their  clansmen,  and  conversed  in 
whispers  with  others  whom  they  awakened.  Then  the 
newcomer,  following  directions,  strolled  towards  the 
tent  occupied  by  the  Englishmen.  Entering  in  the 
dark  he  was  seized  by  Walter,  who  was  lying  sleepless, 
thinking  of  the  possible  outcome  had  he  given  Nur 
Mahal  a  different  answer  when  they  last  stood  together 
in  the  millet-field  so  near  at  hand. 

Jai  Singh  had  said  that  the  place  was  bewitched,  and 
lo,  here  was  Jai  Singh  himself  wriggling  in  his  clutch! 
As  for  Roger,  the  sound  of  the  scuffle  roused  him,  and 
both  Mowbray  and  he  were  vastly  surprised  when  the 
old  Rajput  gasped :  — 

"  Slay  me  not,  sahib !  My  throat  is  sore  enough  with 
screeching  to  deaf  ears.  Soul  of  Govind,  let  go!" 

Bad  news  can  be  told  with  scant  breath.  It  did  not 
take  Jai  Singh  long  to  acquaint  them  with  the  dire 
intelligence  that  Nur  Mahal,  although  received  in  great 
state  by  Jahangir,  had  openly  defied  him.  She  charged 
him  with  the  murder  of  her  gallant  husband,  and, 
woman-like,  even  unfairly  taunted  him  with  his  cow 
ardice  in  destroying  by  a  trick  one  whom  he  dared  not 
encounter  in  fair  fight. 

[262] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Lashed  to  rage  by  her  scorn,  Jahangir  gave  instant 
orders  that  she  should  be  sewn  in  a  sack  and  thrown 
to  the  crocodiles.  But  even  in  that  servile  court  there 
lingered  memories  of  Akbar's  justice,  and  the  infuriated 
tyrant  was  compelled  to  rescind  his  cruel  mandate 
before  it  could  be  executed. 

Some  subtle  instinct  of  statecraft  told  him  the  better 
way.  He  boldly  declared  that  Nur  Mahal's  late  hus 
band  had  conspired  with  others  to  slay  Kutub-ud-din, 
whilst  Sher  Afghan  had  himself  fallen  a  victim  to  an 
intrigue  between  his  wife  and  the  Englishman,  Mow- 
bray.  Ibrahim,  Chief  Eunuch,  proved  that  his  royal 
master  was  absolutely  in  ignorance  of  the  facts  until  he 
(Ibrahim)  told  him  certain  things  he  had  discovered. 
Here  was  actually  a  receipt  showing  that  Nur  Mahal 
had  given  the  Feringhi  jewels  worth  a  lakh  and  a  half 
of  rupees.  It  was  evident  that  her  motive  in  returning 
to  Agra  was  to  stir  up  disaffection  on  the  one  hand  and 
to  purge  herself  of  crime  in  the  eyes  of  the  public  on  the 
other.  What  better  excuse  could  Oriental  monarch 
devise  to  clear  his  own  reputation  and  to  confiscate  the 
estates  of  Sher  Afghan  and  the  late  Diwan  ?  A  royal 
hukm*  was  drawn  up  forthwith,  and  one  of  the  richest 
heiresses  in  India  became  a  pauper,  while  pensions 
were  conferred  on  the  relatives  of  those  who  had  been 
unjustly  slain  for  participating  in  the  attack  on  Sher 
Afghan. 

But  remorse  is  an  invisible  snake  whose  fangs  cannot 
be  drawn,  and  its  venom  tortured  Jahangir  during  the 

*  Order. 
[263] 


The  Great  Mogul 

few  hours  each  day  that  his  brain  was  clear  of  wine 
fumes.  The  prize  he  had  so  dearly  bought  was  now 
within  his  power,  yet  he  affected  to  take  no  notice  of 
her.  Nur  Mahal  was  allotted  a  mean  apartment  in 
the  seraglio.  She  was  appointed  an  attendant  on  the 
king's  mother  at  a  salary  of  one  rupee  a  day,  and  the 
Dowager  Queen  Mariam  was  forbidden  to  show  her 
any  favor  whatever.  Though  this  ordinance  was  not 
strictly  fulfilled,  Jai  Singh,  when  he,  after  much  diffi 
culty  and  with  grave  peril,  obtained  an  interview  with 
Nur  Mahal,  found  her  doing  needlework  and  painting 
silk,  in  which  arts  she  excelled,  to  support  herself  and 
the  few  devoted  women  who  refused  to  leave  her. 

Jai  Singh  delivered  this  budget  in  an  unconcerned 
way  that  did  not  escape  Mowbray's  ear,  for,  in  the 
gloom,  he  could  not  see  the  Rajput's  face. 

"Nur  Mahal  knows  that  we  are  marching  to  Agra 
with  the  Portuguese  captives?"  he  asked,  when  Jai 
Singh  seemed  to  invite  questions  rather  than  continue 
his  recital. 

"Assuredly,  sahib.  How  else  could  I  explain  my 
presence  there  ?  " 

"  Did  it  need  explanation  ?  Was  there  no  knowledge 
of  Jahangir's  intent  to  capture  me?" 

The  other  hesitated,  and  Mowbray  cried  bitterly :  — 

"Tell  all  thy  tale,  Jai  Singh,  or  else  leave  me  in 
peace." 

"Hush,  sahib!  Not  so  loud.  I  swear  by  Khuda  I 
am  party  to  no  device  against  your  Excellency.  If  I 
look  through  glass  I  can  see  what  is  beyond,  but  if 
[264] 


The  Great  Mogul 

I  look  into  a  woman's  mind  I  peer  at  the  reflection  of 
my  own  conceits.  I  can  only  tell  you  of  things  as  they 
are.  When  I  seek  to  fathom  Nur  Mahal's  thoughts 
I  am  gazing  into  a  mirror." 

"  Forgive  my  haste,  Jai  Singh,  and  speak  on." 

"My  story  is  nearly  ended,  sahib.  At  dawn  you 
march  to  the  next  camping-ground,  which  will  surely 
be  on  the  south  side  of  a  big  nullah  fourteen  miles 
ahead.  While  perched  in  the  tree  I  noted  the  lie  of 
the  camp,  and,  doubtless,  it  is  the  same  each  night. 
At  the  eleventh  hour  I  and  threescore  followers  will 
cross  the  nullah.  Be  ready!  Strike  fearlessly  when 
you  hear  an  owl  hoot  three  times.  If  the  commotion 
starts  in  the  center  they  will  think  the  devil  has  broken 
loose  when  the  real  attack  comes  from  the  flank. 
There  will  be  led  horses  in  plenty  once  we  ford  the 
nullah,  provided  you  tell  me  now  how  many  will 
escape  with  you." 

"And  then?" 

"Then  we  ride  to  the  east  and  back  to  the  south." 

"Whither  bound?" 

"To  Burdwan.  Nowhere  else  can  we  obtain  shelter 
until  we  make  our  next  move." 

"The  plan  is  Nur  Mahal's?" 

"You  forget,  sahib,  it  is  your  own." 

"But  she  approves.  What  of  her?  Does  she  bide 
in  Agra?" 

"She  bides  there,  sahib,  if  that  be  your  wish." 

"  Ah !    Was  that  her  word  to  you  ?  " 

"  Nothing  could  be  clearer,  sahib.  If  you  choose  to 
[265] 


The  Great  Mogul 

help  her  she  will  escape  from  the  palace  and  join  you 
at  an  agreed  place.  If  your  only  desire  is  to  make  for 
the  sea  I  am  pledged  to  her  on  Ganges  water  to  aid 
you  with  money  and  life."  . 

"But  she  is  poor,  you  said,  obliged  to  adorn  others 
not  worthy  to  adjust  her  gown  if  beauty  were  alone  to 
wait  on  the  most  beautiful  ?  " 

"  There  is  money  in  plenty  for  the  removal  of  Jahan- 
gir,"  was  the  laconic  answer. 

"Hearest  thou,  Roger?"  said  Mowbray,  reaching 
out  to  touch  his  comrade's  arm  in  the  dark. 

"Aye,  lad,  I  hear,"  came  the  giant's  low  growl. 
"'Tis  a  pity  affairs  are  ordered  differently,  else  we 
should  see  some  pretty  fighting." 

Jai  Singh,  too,  leaned  forward.  He  thought  they 
were  agreeing  that  he  had  planned  most  excellently. 
Already  he  could  sniff  the  sacking  of  Agra  fort,  in 
which  the  accumulated  treasure  was  so  great,  when 
Akbar  had  an  inventory  made,  that  four  hundred  pairs 
of  scales  were  kept  at  work  five  months  weighing  silver, 
gold,  and  precious  stones.  His  breath  came  thick  and 
fast.  His  voice  gurgled  just  as  it  did  under  the  pressure 
of  Mowbray's  hands  on  his  windpipe.  A  revolt  now, 
properly  handled,  would  mean  the  loot  of  a  century. 

'  'Twill  soon  be  sunrise,  sahiba,"  he  said.  "  I  must 
be  going.  Remember*  the  eleventh  hour  —  three 
hoots—" 

"Stay,    Jai  Singh,"   said   Walter,   quietly.     "There 
must  be  no  attempt  at  a  rescue.     If  any  attack  be  made 
on  the  column,  Sainton-sahib  and  I  will  strike  hard  for 
[266] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Fateh  Mohammed.  We  have  given  our  bond  to  accom 
pany  him  to  the  very  presence  of  Jahangir.  God 
helping  us  we  will  maintain  our  honor  in  this  matter 
as  in  all  others.  Go  you,  and  tell  Nur  Mahal  what  I 
have  said.  There  is  no  other  way.  We  are  pledged  to 
meet  the  Emperor  face  to  face  as  his  prisoners,  and  he 
must  do  with  us  what  he  wills,  or,  rather,  what  God 
wills," 

"Sahib,  you  know  not  what  you  are  refusing." 

"Go,  nevertheless,  Jai  Singh,  and  tell  Nur  Mahal 
that  I  have  refused.  Perchance,  now,  she  may  hasten 
alone  to  Burdwan." 

"  Hear  me,  sahib,  I  beseech  you.  She  rode  to  Agra 
meaning  to  marry  Jahangir,  but  her  gorge  rose  at  the 
sight  of  him.  Do  not  hold  her  guilty  of  deceiving  you. 
It  was  your  memory  which  forced  bitter  words  from 
her  lips  when  the  Emperor  expected  her  kisses." 

"It  may  be  so.  But  when  you  gave  your  oath  by 
the  sacred  Ganges  you  meant  to  keep  it  ?  " 

"Until  death,  sahib." 

'  "Know  then,  Jai  Singh,  that  Sainton-sahib  and  I 
have  given  our  word  to  Fateh  Mohammed.  An  Eng 
lishman's  word  is  strong  as  any  vow  by  holy  river. 
You  have  discharged  your  trust  most  faithfully  — 
would  that  I  could  reward  you!  But  I  am  penniless. 
Even  certain  diamonds,  concerning  which  Jahangir 
was  rightly  informed,  are  part  of  my  bond.  Leave  us, 
good  friend,  and  warn  Nur  Mahal  that  we  are,  perhaps, 
less  able  to  help  her  than  she  to  help  us." 

[267] 


CHAPTER  XVI 

"  And  when  a  lady's  in  the  case, 
You  know  all  other  things  give  place." 

Gay,  "The  Hare  and  Many  Friends." 

FATEH  MOHAMMED,  whose  name,  literally  translated, 
meant  "  The  Victorious  and  Praised,"  intended  to  halt 
his  cohort  a  short  day's  ride  from  Agra,  in  order  to 
patch  its  way-worn  aspect  into  some  semblance  of 
dignity  ere  he  entered  the  presence  of  the  King  of 
Kings.  Had  he  ever  heard  of  Falstaff  he  might  well 
have  cried  with  Sir  John:  "No  eye  hath  seen  such 
scarecrows.  I'll  not  march  through  Coventry  with 
them,  that's  flat."  The  wear  and  tear  of  seven  hundred 
miles  had  pressed  so  heavily  on  the  resources  of  guards 
and  prisoners  alike  that  their  clothes  and  accouterments 
did,  indeed,  require  some  furbishing.  In  this  ragged 
regiment  the  Englishmen  and  their  Rajputs  alone 
presented  a  reputable  appearance. 

But,  stout  though  he  was,  and  otherwise  much 
resembling  plump  Jack  in  his  rascally  tastes,  Fateh 
Mohammed  possessed  a  fair  share  of  Eastern  wiliness, 
so  he  took  good  care  to  apprise  Jahangir  beforehand 
of  the  curious  conditions  under  which  he  was  bringing 
to  the  capital  the  two  men  whose  presence  there  was 
so  greatly  desired  by  his  imperial  master.  The  recital 
[268] 


The  Great  Mogul 

naturally  showed  that  the  fat  man  was  a  model  of  zeal 
and  discretion.  If  the  Conqueror  of  the  World  re 
garded  the  Giaours  as  malefactors,  here  they  were, 
ready  to  be  bound  and  dealt  with  according  to  the 
King's  command,  but,  should  it  happen  to  please  the 
Planet-born  to  treat  them  as  friends,  naught  had  been 
done  to  give  ground  for  other  supposition,  save  in  such 
slight  and  easily  arranged  matters  as  disarming  them 
and  holding  certain  valuable  securities  for  their  observ 
ance  of  the  pact  agreed  upon. 

Hence,  Fateh  Mohammed  felt  neither  "victorious" 
nor  "praised"  when  a  high  official,  accompanied  by  a 
glittering  retinue,  rode  out  from  Agra  and  greeted 
Mowbray  and  Sainton  with  much  deference,  inviting 
them  to  return  with  him  forthwith  and  accept  the 
Emperor's  hospitality!  They  had  gone  through  so 
many  vicissitudes  of  late  that  this  bewildering  attitude 
on  the  part  of  the  Mogul  monarch  left  them  outwardly 
unmoved  though  inwardly  amazed.  No  one  could  be 
more  surprised  than  Mowbray,  the  too  successful 
prophet  of  the  royal  intent.  Yet  he  bowed  his  polite 
acceptance  of  the  proffered  honors,  and  his  manner 
was  discretion  itself  when  Fateh  Mohammed,  jelly-like 
in  agitation,  expressing  his  regrets  with  the  spluttering 
haste  of  water  poured  from  a  narrow-necked  bottle, 
hastened  to  restore  not  only  the  cedar  box  with  its 
contents  intact,  but  also  the  swords  and  daggers  stolen 
from  the  Englishmen  while  they  slept. 

Mowbray  did  not  know  then  that  the  court  official 
had  curtly  told  Fateh  Mohammed  he  was  in  grave  peril 
[269] 


The  Great  Mogul 

of  being  hanged  on  the  nearest  tree  if  Jahangir  had 
reason  to  complain  of  his  treatment  of  the  strangers. 
It  was  in  vain  that  the  fat  man  pleaded  the  Emperor's 
written  instructions,  which  were  ambiguous  certainly, 
but  which  must  be  interpreted  by  his  Majesty's  anxiety 
to  secure  the  presence  of  the  two  Feringhis  at  Agra. 

"  If  you  interpret  a  King's  wishes  you  run  the  risk  of 
making  a  false  translation,"  was  the  chilling  response, 
so  Fateh  Mohammed  was  left  alternately  thanking  the 
Prophet  that  he  had  not  obeyed  his  inclinations  and 
slain  the  Giaours  when  he  learnt  how  they  had  hood 
winked  him,  and  shivering  with  fear  lest,  after  all, 
Jahangir  might  find  cause  to  be  displeased  with  him. 

Therefore,  he  groveled  before  Mowbray,  and,  like 
Prince  Henry's  sack-loving  companion,  wished  "  it  were 
bedtime  and  all  well." 

The  mystery  of  the  Emperor's  attitude  deepened 
when  Walter  learned  that  Nur  Mahal  was,  indeed,  a 
palace  menial.  Even  the  weather-cock  courtier,  skilled 
in  the  art  of  polite  evasion,  did  not  scruple  to  show  his 
contempt  for  feminine  influences  at  the  best. 

"  I  have  seen  many  such  butterflies  dancing  in  the 
sun,"  he  said  scoffingly.  "  They  are  very  brilliant  until 
the  rain  falls,  or  some  hungry  bird  eats  them." 

His  orders  were  to  conduct  the  Englishmen  and  their 
followers  to  Dilkusha,  where  they  would  be  in  the  midst 
of  familiar  surroundings,  and  it  was  Jahangir's  wish  to 
receive  them  that  afternoon.  When  Mowbray  insisted 
that  Fra  Pietro  should  come  with  them  the  envoy  was 
dubious  at  first,  but  Walter  would  not  yield  the  point, 
[270] 


The  Great  Mogul 

which  was  ultimately  conceded.  As  for  the  others, 
they  were  to  bide  in  their  present  camp  until  arrange 
ments  were  made  for  their  disposal. 

"Gad!"  cried  Roger,  paying  some  heed  to  this 
statement,  "  that  will  not  be  to  Matilda's  liking ! " 

"  Have  affairs  come  to  the  pass  that  you  may  not  be 
parted  ? "  asked  Walter,  roguishly,  his  perplexities  van 
ishing  for  the  moment  as  he  pictured  the  Countess's 
agitation  when  told  she  was  to  be  separated  from  her 
cavalier. 

"  'Tis  to  me  a  matter  of  no  great  cavil,"  was  the 
reply,  "  but  the  poor  body  will  surely  miss  me  when  the 
mule  crosses  a  bad  bit  of  road." 

"  Why  not  bring  her  with  us  ?  " 

"  Aye.  That  is  to  be  thought  of.  There  are  always 
more  ways  of  killing  a  dog  than  choking  him  wi' 
butter." 

"But  you  must  marry  the  lady  first,  Roger.  At  a 
pinch,  Fra  Pietro  — 

"  The  devil  fly  off  with  thee  and  thy  pinching !  Who 
spoke  of  marrying  ?  Thy  humor,  at  times,  Walter,  is 
dry  as  the  Swale  after  a  drought." 

"  From  what  I  have  seen  of  the  Countess  I  fear  that 
marriage  will  be  the  only  cure  for  her  affliction." 

"  By  the  cross  of  Osmotherly ! "  cried  Sainton,  hotly, 
"if  that  be  her  malady  she  will  ail  a  long  time  ere  I 
give  her  physic.  Marry,  forsooth!  If  ever  I  seek  a 
wife,  which  I  greatly  doubt,  I'll  hitch  up  wi'  a  lass 
from  my  own  dales.  Not  that  Matilda  is  ill-looking, 
or,  for  that  matter,  as  skittish  as  some  I  have  seen,  but 
[271] 


The  Great  Mogul 

may  the  Lord  help  any  woman  I  bring  to  Wensley  afore 
my  mother  runs  an  eye  over  her!" 

"  I  fear,  then,  her  Ladyship  must  remain  here  willy- 
nilly." 

Sainton,  more  annoyed  than  he  cared  to  show,  drew 
his  long  neglected  sword  and  began  to  burnish  it 
affectionately. 

"  Thou  hast  a  toad's  tongue  at  times,  lad,"  he  growled, 
breathing  on  the  steel  before  rubbing  it  to  a  fine  sheen. 
"  The  thing  had  not  troubled  me  a  whit  hadst  thou  not 
spoken  of  it,  but,  now  I  come  to  think  over  bygones, 
I  am  constrained  to  admit  that  mayhap  her  Lady 
ship  may  have  construed  my  actions  amiss.  Women 
are  oft  prone  to  look  through  a  chink  when  the  door 
is  open  all  the  time.  On  my  soul  I  fear  to  face 
her.  My  hang-dog  looks  will  betray  me  and  she'll 
upbraid  me.  Go  thou,  Walter,  and  tell  her  —  tell 
her  —  " 

"  That  thou  hast  no  mind  to  wed.  Nay,  Roger,  that 
would  be  ungallant,  to  say  the  least." 

"Tell  her  any  glib  lie  that  will  get  me  safely  away. 
Samson  was  half  conquered  when  it  was  known  wherein 
his  strength  lay,  and  my  only  sure  refuge  is  flight  if  a 
woman  attacks.  Poor  Matilda!  I  would  I  had  the 
heart  to  appease  her.  Yet  I  am  not  for  matrimony, 
and  no  barber  can  make  a  wig  of  a  hide  that  is  bald  of 
wool.  But  I  vow  you  have  vexed  me  by  your  niceties. 
Drat  the  thing!  I  trust  the  bit  of  Latinity  our  worthy 
friar  gave  me  yester  e'en  is  sound  sense,  else  I'll  mope 
for  a  week." 

[272] 


The  Great  Mogul 

"And  what  was  that,  Roger?"  asked  Mowbray, 
turning  to  hide  a  smile  from  his  wrathful  friend. 

"  He  spoke  to  me  of  certain  passages  twixt  you  and 
Nur  Mahal,  as  he  built  somewhat  on  her  power  despite 
Jai  Singh's  story.  Yet  he  sighed  and  said:  'Quid 
vento?  Mulier.  Quid  muliere?  Nihil!'  It  tickled 
my  fancy  to  put  the  quip  into  rhyme :  — 

'More  fickle  than  wind 

Is  woman's  mind; 
More  fickle  than  woman 

Naught  you'll  find.' 

Beshrew  me!  It  fitted  Nur  Mahal  all  right,  but  the 
cap  seems  to  sit  awry  when  worn  by  my  jolly  and 
pleasant-spoken  Countess.  Wliai!  Would  you  grin 
at  me,  you  dog,  like  a  clown  gaping  through  a  horse- 
collar?  I'll  wager,  were  the  business  yours,  you'd 
carry  a  longer  jowl." 

"On  my  word,  Roger,  if  you  trumpet  so  loudly  I 
must  even  believe  that  my  Elephant  is  sore  wounded. 
Why  say  aught  to-day  to  the  Countess  ?  Once  we  are 
sped  on  some  new  path  I  promise  to  write  her  on  your 
behalf,  and  in  such  a  strain  that  any  silly  notions  she 
may  be  harboring  shall  vanish  after  a  day's  fasting." 

"  Ecod,  you  know  not  Matilda.  She  would  not  miss 
her  dinner  for  twenty  men.  And  that  is  what  draws 
me  to  her.  A  plague  on  all  weddings,  I  say.  They 
mar  a  woman  and  vex  a  man.  What  the  devil!  A 
nice  thing  Noah  did  for  the  world  when  he  took  nowt 
but  pairs  into  the  Ark." 

Nevertheless,  though  angered  by  his  tardy  discovery, 
[273] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Sainton  was  far  too  good-natured  to  steal  away  covertly 
from  the  genial  presence  of  the  Countess  di  Cabota. 
He  cudgeled  his  brains  to  invent  some  reasonable 
excuse  for  bidding  her  farewell.  Finally  he  hit  upon 
an  expedient  that  pleased  him  greatly,  and  chased  the 
unwonted  frown  from  his  cheerful  face. 

In  view  of  the  expected  state  visit  to  Jahangir  he  had 
donned  his  best  garments,  which,  though  soiled,  were 
yet  free  from  rents,  and  never  a  finer  man  trod  the 
iron  earth  of  India  than  Roger  that  day  when,  with  his 
four-foot  sword  clanking  against  his  thigh,  he  ap 
proached  the  Countess's  camping-place.  Already,  of 
course,  rumor  had  been  busy.  The  perturbation  of 
Fateh  Mohammed  and  the  haughty  curling  of  Rajput 
mustaches  which  followed  the  advent  of  Jahangir's 
envoy  told  some  portion  of  the  tale  to  the  stealthy-eyed 
natives.  Gossip  did  the  rest.  Roger  found  the  Coun 
tess  all  agog  with  joyous  hope. 

" Por  gracia  di  Dios!"  she  cried,  clapping  her  hands, 
"now  that  I  see  you  wearing  your  sword  I  know  that 
what  I  have  been  told  is  true." 

"F  faith,  Matilda,  you  are  a  rare  hand  at  guessing 
sheep  when  you  smell  roast  mutton,"  was  his  hearty 
greeting.  "'Tis  indeed  true  that  some  favoring  star 
hath  moved  the  king  to  deal  with  us  kindly.  Perchance 
'tis  the  moon,  which  is  said  to  rule  certain  humans. 
But  my  news  is  stale.  I  come  to  take  leave  of  you." 

The  Countess's  ruddy  cheeks  paled  beneath  the  tan 
of  long  exposure  to  the  open  air,  and  a  spasm  of  fear 
dilated  her  pretty  eyes. 

[274] 


The  Great  Mogul 

"To  take  leave  of  me!  Mater  misericordiw!  What 
say  you  ?  " 

"Nay,  my  bonny  Countess,  you  read  my  words 
wrongly.  Master  Mowbray  and  I  are  bidden  ride 
ahead  to  meet  the  Emperor.  That  is  all." 

"  You  will  return  ere  night  ? " 

Roger  stroked  his  chin  with  dubious  calculation. 
The  action  enabled  him  to  avoid  her  startled  glance. 

"I  have  my  doubts,"  he  said,  and,  not  so  sure  now 
of  the  simplicity  of  his  errand,  wisely  added  not  another 
word. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  go  on  to  Agra  and  leave  me 
here  with  —  with  Fateh  Mohammed  ?  " 

There  was  a  directness,  yet  a  veiled  inference,  in  the 
question  that  did  not  escape  him. 

"  Be  reasonable,  Matilda,"  he  pleaded.  "  We  go  but 
to  prepare  the  way.  You  forget  that  Jahangir,  for 
some  reason  not  known  to  any  of  us,  is  changing  his 
plans.  From  fire  and  murder  he  hath  turned  to  clem 
ency.  It  may  be  that  he  thinks  some  quiet  talk  with 
Master  Mowbray  may  clear  the  thorns  from  his  new 
path." 

"  Then  let  Master  Mowbray  go  to  him,  and  you  bide 
here." 

"That  cannot  be.     It  would  argue  distrust." 

"  I  think  I  understand,"  said  the  Countess,  quietly, 
with  all  a  woman's  irritating  assumption  of  the  truth 
when  a  man  would  soothe  her  with  a  plausible  tale. 

Roger,  whose  wit  was  keen  enough  when  he  en 
countered  opposition,  was  helpless  before  this  passive 
[275] 


The  Great  Mogul 

attitude.  Yet  he  blundered  on,  trusting  to  luck  to 
extricate  him.  He  fumbled  with  a  small  package  he 
took  from  his  breast,  and  swayed  from  one  foot  to  the 
other,  losing  some  of  his  gallant  air  in  an  attitude  which 
reflected  his  mental  stress. 

"There's  nowt  to  make  sike  a  pother  about,"  he 
growled.  "  We  haste  to  Agra,  you  follow  more  slowly, 
and  that  is  all  there  is  to  it.  But  you  are  in  sad  plight, 
Matilda,  after  these  weary  days  of  travel,  without  a 
stitch  to  your  old  clothes,  so  to  speak,  or  means  to  buy 
new  ones.  Now,  a  lady  of  your  condition  should  be 
garbed  more  reputably.  Though  I  doubt  not  Jahangir 
will  treat  you  generously  in  his  altered  mood,  I  would 
not  have  you  wholly  dependent  on  his  tardy  grace.  I 
have  no  money,  but  here  is  money's  worth,  and  it  can 
never  be  put  to  better  use  than  in  purchasing  the 
wherewithal  to  adorn  you." 

So  saying,  and  thankful  that  the  concluding  sentence, 
which  he  had  concocted  with  some  care,  had  not  es 
caped  his  memory,  he  dropped  Sher  Afghan's  magnifi 
cent  gold  chain  into  her  lap,  for  the  Countess  was  sitting 
on  a  saddle  outside  the  tent. 

She  bent  forward,  as  if  to  examine  the  present, 
passing  each  of  the  fine  turquoises  with  which  it  was 
set  mechanically  through  her  fingers.  She  managed 
so  well  that  her  voice  seemed  to  be  under  control. 

"You  are  very  kind  and  thoughtful,"  she  said  in  a 
low  tone.  "I  am,  indeed,  much  in  need  of  repair." 

"Gad!    I  would  smite  sorely  the  man  who  said  so. 
I  spoke  of  the  husk,  not  of  the  kernel." 
[276] 


The  Great  Mogul 

"And  I  shall  value  the  gift  highly,"  she  continued. 

"Stick  out  for  the  last  rupee.  These  Agra  gold 
smiths  are  thieves.  If  not  the  whole,  you  might  sell  a 
portion." 

Her  head  drooped  a  little  more. 

"  They  are  beautiful  links,  well  knit,  and  of  the  best 
workmanship,"  she  said,  "and  I  have  never  before 
seen  such  stones.  'Twould  be  a  pity  to  sunder  them. 
They  will  be  pleasant  to  look  upon  long  after  the  flimsy 
silks  they  would  buy  are  faded  and  threadbare." 

Resignation,  not  to  say  hopelessness,  was  a  new 
phase  to  Sainton  in  woman's  varying  humors.  Had 
the  Countess  di  Cabota  stormed,  or  protested,  or  even 
broken  down  utterly,  Roger,  though  profoundly  un 
comfortable,  might  have  survived  the  ordeal.  But  the 
merry-eyed  lady  was  crushed.  She  who  was  wont  to 
toss  her  curls  so  saucily  when  he  tried  that  excellent 
specific  of  a  thumb  in  the  ribs  now  sat  before  him  with 
hidden  face.  And  Roger  was  terrible  only  in  war. 
Let  him  have  his  way  he  was  easily  swayed  as  a  child; 
but  to-day  he  was  a  child  perplexed  by  a  new  problem. 

"  If  you  are  not  minded  to  use  the  gaud  in  that  way," 
he  growled  hesitatingly,  "I  must  devise  some  other 
manner  of  meeting  your  wants." 

"I  am  greatly  beholden  to  you,"  she  murmured. 
"Mayhap  I  may  not  see  you  again,  so,  should  you 
succeed  in  sending  me  some  money,  let  your  messenger 
bring  a  parchment,  and  I  will  write  an  order  on  a 
certain  house  in  London  for  your  repayment." 

This  was  unbearable.  Roger  stooped,  placed  a 
[277] 


The  Great  Mogul 

great  hand  under  her  chin,  and  raised  her  unresisting 
face.  His  unlooked-for  action  caused  pent-up  tears  to 
tremble  on  her  eyelashes,  while  there  was  a  suspicious 
quivering  in  the  corners  of  her  red  lips. 

"  Are  you  bent  on  plaguing  me,  Matilda,  or  is  it  that 
you  truly  believe  I  am  seeking  some  pretense  to  go 
away  under  a  false  flag  ?  "  he  demanded  fiercely. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you,  Roger.  You  know  best  yourself. 
Why  should  I  complain  ?  I  owe  my  life,  and  many 
days  of  happiness,  to  you  and  to  your  good  friend. 
Whether  you  go  or  stay  may  the  Lord  watch  over  you, 
and  bring  you  safely  to  that  pleasant  home  in  the  North 
of  which  you  have  so  often  spoken  to  me!  I  think  I 
have  seen  it  in  my  dreams,  and  the  notion  pleases  me." 

She  caught  his  hand  and  would  have  pressed  it  to 
her  face,  but  he  was  too  quick  for  her.  Before  she  well 
knew  what  was  happening  she  was  lifted  to  her  feet, 
and  Roger  had  kissed  her  heartily  on  the  lips. 

"  That  is  a  quittance  for  the  chain,"  he  cried.  "  When 
I  want  another  for  the  money  I  shall  bring  thee,  be  not 
surprised  if  I  discharge  the  debt  in  like  fashion." 

Womanlike  she  glanced  hastily  around,  all  aglow 
with  sudden  embarrassment,  to  learn  if  others  had 
observed  his  action.  Certainly  the  eyes  of  some  of  the 
Portuguese  captives  were  turned  curiously  towards 
them.  Making  a  tremendous  effort,  she  laughed  gaily. 

"Your  English  leave-taking  is  very  nice,  but  some 
what  unusual  to  our  ideas,"  she  cried.  "  Nevertheless, 
I  am  glad  to  have  your  promise  to  return." 

"I  swear  it,  by  the  cross  of  Osmotherly ! "  vowed 
[278] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Roger,  and  with  this  mighty  oath  the  Countess  was 
satisfied,  though,  as  a  good  Catholic,  she  might  have 
been  surprised  if  she  knew  that  the  giant's  favorite 
expletive  only  referred  to  a  crossroad  on  the  summit  of 
a  Yorkshire  hill,  where  King  Oswald  is  supposed  to 
lie  buried  by  the  side  of  his  mother,  whence  the  name 
Osmotherly :  "  Oswald-by-his-mother-lay." 

There  was  some  dubiety  among  the  remaining  Euro 
peans  when  they  saw  the  Englishmen  ride  off  with  Fra 
Pietro  and  the  Rajputs.  So  might  sheep  feel  in  a 
wolf-infested  land,  if  the  shepherds  and  dogs  were 
withdrawn. 

"What  is  to  become  of  us,"  they  asked,  "and  why 
have  our  protectors  taken  the  friar  alone  ?  " 

But  the  Countess  bade  them  be  of  good  cheer. 

"They  will  come  back,"  she  said,  calmly.  "They 
have  promised ;  and  those  men  never  say  what  they  do 
not  mean." 

Yet  one  of  the  pair  reflected  ruefully,  as  he  jogged 
towards  Agra,  that  he  had  said  a  good  deal  more  than 
he  meant  to  say.  Mowbray,  noting  his  comrade's 
introspective  mood,  forbore  to  question  him  as  to  his 
farewell  interview  with  the  Countess,  and  Roger  quaked 
at  the  thought  of  putting  into  words  his  recollections  of 
the  scene.  So  Walter  chatted  with  Fra  Pietro,  seeking 
that  grave  counselor's  views  as  to  the  possible  motives 
which  inspired  Jahangir's  remarkable  volte-face. 

To  reach  the  Garden  of  Heart's  Delight  the  cavalcade 
crossed  a  ford  of  the  Jumna  and  followed  a  road  along 
the  left  bank  of  the  river.  Thus,  they  passed  close  to 
[279] 


the  royal  palace,  being  separated  from  it  only  by  the 
width  of  the  stream.  Its  lofty  red  sandstone  walls, 
high  piled  towers  and  threatening  battlements,  topped 
by  the  exquisite  spires  and  minarets  of  the  white  marble 
buildings  within,  made  a  resplendent  and  awe-inspiring 
picture  in  the  vivid  sunlight.  Dominating  the  cluster 
of  regal  apartments  on  the  river  face  was  the  superb 
Diwan-i-Khas,  or  Hall  of  Private  Audience,  which 
stands  to  this  day  "a  miracle  of  beauty."  Mowbray 
knew  it  well.  Behind  its  inlaid  walls  lay  the  garden  in 
which  Akbar  chaffered  with  the  ladies  at  the  fair,  and 
on  the  south  side  was  the  broad  terrace  whence  Roger 
heaved  the  great  stone  onto  the  tiger. 

Standing  boldly  out  in  the  angle  formed  by  the 
Diwan-i-Khas  and  the  terrace  was  the  Golden  Pavilion, 
so  called  because  of  its  roof  of  gilded  copper,  and  nest 
ling  close  to  this  glittering  apex  of  the  zenana  was  the 
fairy-like  Jasmine  Tower.  No  strange  eyes  might  dare 
to  rest  on  that  imperial  sanctuary  save  from  a  distance. 
Yet  Mowbray,  from  description  oft  repeated,  could  tell 
the  Franciscan  some  of  its  glories;  how  the  marble 
pavement  of  its  inner  court  represented  a  pachisi-board, 
on  which  the  Sultana  and  her  ladies  played  a  clever 
game  with  shells;  how  the  lovely  lattice- work  of  the 
window  screens  was  cut  out  of  solid  slabs  of  marble; 
how  trailing  devices  of  flowers  and  fruit  were  fashioned 
in  pietra  dura  with  carnelians,  agates,  turquoises,  and 
all  manner  of  bright  colored  or  sparkling  gems;  how 
fountains  made  music  where  marble  baths  were  sunk 
in  the  floor,  while  the  dripping  naiads  who  emerged 
[280] 


The  Great  Mogul 

from  the  cool  depths  might  survey  their  charms  in  the 
Shish  Mahal,  or  Room  of  a  Thousand  Mirrors,  wherein 
a  cascade  of  rippling  water  fell  over  a  tiny  terrace 
artificially  lighted  with  colored  lamps.  These  and 
other  marvels  did  he  pour  into  Fra  Pietro's  ears,  until 
the  friar  piously  crossed  himself  and  said  with  a 
smile :  — 

"  Yet  a  little  while  and  these  glories  shall  be  forgotten. 
'  Then  shall  the  dust  return  to  the  earth  as  it  was ;  and 
the  spirit  shall  return  unto  God  who  gave  it.' " 

"  But  you  will  grant,  good  brother,  that  a  man  only 
lives  once  on  earth,  and  it  would  be  scarce  credible,  did 
we  not  know  it,  that  with  all  our  Western  wit  we  have 
naught  in  London  or  Paris  to  match  the  skill  of  these 
barbarians,"  cried  Walter. 

"I  have  seen  in  old  Rome  the  crumbling  fragments 
of  palaces  for  which  the  proudest  hall  in  Agra  might 
serve  as  an  ante-chamber.  Brethren,  more  traveled 
than  I,  and  learned  men  withal,  have  told  me  of  the 
still  more  wondrous  works  of  ancient  Greece  and  for 
gotten  Babylon.  Of  what  avail  are  the  vain  efforts  of 
man!  'Lord,  a  day  in  Thy  courts  is  better  than  a 
thousand.  Heaven  and  earth  shall  pass  away,  but  Thy 
word  shall  not  pass  away.' " 

Though  the  friar  spoke  Latin  when  he  quoted  the 
Bible,  Walter  followed  his  thought  closely.  Here  was 
a  man  wholly  unmoved  by  the  pomp  and  vanity  of  the 
world.  Fra  Pietro  paid  more  heed  to  a  budding  shrub 
as  a  manifest  sign  of  the  Creator  than  to  all  the  transient 
splendor  of  the  Mogul  capital.  Yet  he  was  one  who 
[281] 


The  Great  Mogul 

seldom  mixed  religion  with  his  conversation,  and  it  is 
reasonable  to  suppose  that  his  utterances  would  have 
taken  a  less  abstract  form  had  he  known  that  the  bright 
eyes  of  Nur  Mahal  were  even  then  fixed  intently  on  the 
cavalcade  from  the  recess  of  a  small  apartment  over 
the  Water  Gate  of  the  palace.  Perchance  the  subtle 
mesmerism  of  her  glance  was  more  potent  with  his 
gentle  spirit  than  with  the  hardier  soul  of  the  young 
Englishman,  for  his  sedate  mule  had  not  gone  many 
paces  by  the  side  of  Walter's  mettlesome  Arab  ere  he 
spoke  again :  — 

" Forgive  me,  friend,"  he  said,  "if  I  broke  in  on  your 
discourse  with  solemn  reflections.  One  must  be  boor 
ish,  indeed,  to  deny  a  just  meed  of  praise  to  the  design 
ers  and  builders  of  yonder  superb  pile.  Tell  me,  as 
you  seem  to  know  its  ways  so  well,  in  what  quarter 
does  Nur  Mahal  probably  dwell  ?  " 

"There!"  and  Mowbray  pointed  straight  towards 
the  Water  Gate. 

"Ah!  That  is  the  very  heart  of  the  fortress.  It  will 
be  difficult  to  reach  her." 

"  Difficult  indeed,  dangerous  for  a  native  and  wholly 
impossible  for  a  European.  But  why  do  you  ask?" 

The  Franciscan's  remark  took  his  hearers  by  sur 
prise,  and  Roger,  who  listened  silently  to  their  talk, 
smiled  for  the  first  time  during  five  hours. 

"Hola,  my  chuck,"  he  muttered  to  himself,  "now  it 
is  thy  turn  to  be  roasted  while  a  woman  turns  the  spit." 

"I  think  she  is  the  fans  et  origo  of  all  that  has  oc 
curred,"  said  the  friar.     "Whether  exalted  or  lowly, 
[282] 


The  Great  Mogul 

such  a  woman  will  ever  be  the  yeast  in  the  leaven  of  a 
man  like  Jahangir.  He  may  neither  believe  nor  admit 
that  this  is  so,  yet  I  incline  to  the  opinion  that  the 
character  of  your  reception  is  due  to  the  promptings  of 
a  higher  intelligence  than  that  with  which  the  Emperor 
is  endowed." 

"I  would  rest  assured  if  Nur  Mahal  supplied  his 
inspiration,"  answered  Mowbray,  conscious  that  Roger's 
eye  was  cocked  at  him.  "But  remember  there  is  a 
chance  that  my  arch-enemy,  Dom  Geronimo,  may 
have  survived  the  Emperor's  edict  against  the  Chris 
tians.  In  the  East  one  perforce  looks  for  guile,  and  I 
fear  that  the  smooth  seeming  of  Jahangir's  actions  may 
prove  a  snare  for  our  undoing.  I  account  in  that  way 
for  the  desire  to  separate  us  from  the  others.  It  is  idle 
to  say  that  this  great  city  could  not  house  us  without 
preparation.  And  now  you  have  my  secret  mind  as  to 
your  presence  here.  If  Jahangir  means  evil,  Roger 
and  I,  knowing  his  methods,  may  defeat  him.  As 
suredly  you  are  safer  with  us  than  with  the  poor  souls 
who  remain  in  Fateh  Mohammed's  custody." 

Then  Roger  swore  so  violently  that  Fra  Pietro  turned 
and  looked  at  the  fort  again. 

"  By  all  the  fiends ! "  he  roared,  "  why  didst  thou  not 
tell  me  thy  secret  mind,  as  thou  callest  it,  earlier? 
Here  have  I  left  Matilda  with  yon  spawn  of  Old  Nick, 
and  kept  her  content  only  by  a  pledge  to  return  with 
proper  haste." 

"  Roger,  Roger !  never  before  hast  thou  addressed  me 
with  such  unreasoning  heat.  Who  asked  thee,  this 
[  28.3  ] 


The  Great  Mogul 

morning,  to  bring  the  lady  with  us?  Who  asked  me 
to  make  thy  excuses  to  her  ?  What  of  my  dry  humor, 
my  toad's  tongue?  Who  was  it  that  grinned  like  a 
clown  through  a  horse-collar  because  he  would  not  lie 
glibly  enough  to  suit  thy  purpose  ?  " 

Sainton  gulped  down  his  wrath,  but  Mowbray  was 
disturbed  by  the  expression  of  ox-like  stubbornness 
which  suddenly  clouded  his  face.  Roger,  wearing  such 
aspect,  was  hard  to  control. 

"I  mun  go  back,"  he  said.  "Look  for  me  ere 
midnight,  Walter." 

Without  another  word  of  explanation  he  bared  his 
sword  and  wheeled  his  powerful  horse. 

"Make  way,  there!"  he  bellowed.  "Out  of  my 
path,  swine!  Quickly,  ye  sons  of  pigs,  I  am  not  to  be 
stayed!" 

Thinking  the  Hathi-sahib  had  gone  mad  the  troopers 
who  rode  with  Jahangir's  emissary  scattered  right  and 
left.  Mowbray,  though  vexed  by  the  untoward  inci 
dent,  promptly  endeavored  to  rob  it  of  grave  signifi 
cance  by  ordering  half  a  dozen  of  his  own  Rajputs  to 
follow  Sainton-sahib  and  help  him  if  necessary. 

Before  the  nawab  who  headed  their  escort  quite 
realized  what  was  happening,  Roger  had  vanished. 
The  last  glimpse  Mowbray  obtained  of  his  gigantic 
countryman  was  when  Sainton,  sitting  bolt  upright  on 
his  charger  and  holding  his  sword  aloft  like  a  steel 
torch,  disappeared  in  the  cloud  of  dust  created  by  the 
passage  of  himself  and  his  small  troop. 

Now,  the  high-placed  official  was  vastly  offended  by 
[284] 


"  Out  of  my  path,  swine. 


The  Great  Mogul 

Roger's  rude  and  peremptory  words,  and  some  little 
time  elapsed  before  Mowbray's  apologies,  couched  in 
the  most  polite  Persian,  were  accepted.  There  was* 
nothing  for  it  but  to  credit  the  Colossus  with  a  touch  of 
the  sun,  and  add  thereto  a  hint  of  his  passionate  at 
tachment  for  the  buxom  Countess. 

Even  then  Walter's  difficulties  were  not  exhausted. 
Fra  Pietro,  speaking  very  firmly,  said  that  his  place  was 
with  his  people,  and  he  would  be  glad  if  some  arrange 
ment  were  made  whereby  he  could  return  to  them. 

"  It  is  not  to  be  thought  of,"  was  Mowbray's  instant 
answer.  "  Not  only  will  Roger  create  difficulty  enough 
when  he  encounters  Fateh  Mohammed,  should  the 
latter  oppose  the  departure  of  the  Countess,  but  I  look 
to  you  to  champion  the  cause  of  the  other  captives  at 
our  meeting  with  Jahangir.  A  woman  may  account 
for  my  comrade's  absence.  Such  excuse  will  not  avail 
you." 

The  friar  bowed  meekly. 

"  I  would  not  burthen  you  with  fresh  cares,"  he  said, 
"  but  I  cannot  save  my  own  life  and  leave  my  flock  to 
perish.  Nevertheless,  if  it  be  best  in  your  judgment, 
I  will  go  with  you  into  the  Emperor's  presence." 

Mowbray's  resolute  features  must  have  shown  the 
irritation  which  mastered  him,  for  the  Franciscan 
added : — 

"  Be  not  angered  with  your  friend.     He  hath  a  heart 
of  a  size  to  match  his  body,  and  'tis  a  man's  privilege 
to  protect  the  weaker  sex.     'From  the  beginning  of 
creation  God  made  them  male  and  female.' " 
[285] 


The  Great  Mogul 

"Believe  me,  brother,  I  am  mostly  concerned  about 
my  own  lack  of  foresight  in  this  matter.  Thank 
Heaven  there  is  no  woman  here  for  whose  sake  I  should 
be  compelled  to  act,  it  may  be,  even  more  hastily  than 
Roger!" 

"  Did  you  not  tell  me  that  Nur  Mahal  inhabits  that 
portion  of  the  zenana  situate  over  the  Water  Gate  ? " 

"Yes;  what  if  she  does?" 

"  While  Master  Sainton  was  venting  his  ire  I  chanced 
to  turn  my  eyes  that  way.  A  white  scarf  fluttered  for 
an  instant  high  above  the  gate.  Ah!  there  it  is  again! 
Take  heed  lest  some  of  the  others  follow  your  glance! 
You  are  not  prone  to  rash  vows,  friend,  yet  I  am  much 
mistaken  if  there  be  not  a  woman  in  Agra  who  shall 
perplex  you  sorely  ere  many  hours  have  passed." 

And,  indeed,  Walter  did  see  a  whirl  of  muslin  tremble 
in  the  air  like  a  tiny  cloud  from  one  of  the  many  small 
windows  which  pierced  the  frowning  battlements. 


[286] 


CHAPTER  XVII 

"Under  which  King,  Bezonian  ?     Speak,  or  die! " 

King  Henry  IV,  Part  II,  Act  5,  Sc.  3. 

WHEN  a  woman's  head  governs  her  heart  she  is  to 
be  feared;  and  that  is  why  Providence,  meaning  her 
to  be  loved,  ordained  that,  for  the  most  part,  her  heart 
should  govern  her  head.  In  the  rarer  descriptions  of 
the  human  clay  a  woman  unites  in  herself  romance  and 
the  critical  faculty,  as  though  the  Master  delighted  in 
blending  Aphrodite  with  Athene. 

Nur  Mahal,  true  daughter  of  the  gods,  was  such  a 
one.  Gifted  with  the  intelligence  and  cold  intellect  of 
an  empire-ruler  she  seldom  yielded  to  the  divine 
femininity  which  was  her  birthright.  It  was  an  im 
pulse  of  sheer  emotion  which  led  her  to  betray  her  joy 
by  a  signal  when  she  distinguished  Mowbray  in  the 
midst  of  the  troop  of  horse.  Not  unnaturally,  she 
interpreted  the  sudden  halt  caused  by  Roger's  anxiety 
anent  the  Countess  as  arising  from  Mowbray's  wish  to 
let  her  know  that  he  had  seen  the  fluttering  scarf  and 
rightly  guessed  its  owner.  If  so,  his  action  was  an 
indiscretion.  Who  could  tell  how  many  pairs  of  eyes 
were  watching  him  from  hidden  chamber  or  open 
battlements  ? 

The  departure  of  Sainton  in  such  furious  haste 
[287] 


The  Great  Mogul 

puzzled  her  exceedingly,  but  she  was  reassured  when 
Mowbray  turned  his  horse's  head  again  towards  Dil- 
kusha.  She  knew  now  that  the  brown-robed  stranger 
who  rode  so  near  to  him  was  not  only  the  friend,  spoken 
of  by  Jai  Singh,  for  whom  the  Englishman  had  dared 
so  greatly,  but  that  he,  too,  had  observed  her  token. 
So  she  ventured  to  thrust  forth  the  gossamer  muslin  a 
second  time,  and  she  was  sure  that  Mowbray  looked 
towards  her  and  bowed  gracefully,  even  raising  his  hat 
to  show  that  he  was  aware  of  her  presence. 

In  Agra,  during  the  Mogul  dynasty,  such  was  the 
perfection  reached  by  the  weaver's  art,  muslin  was 
fashioned  of  a  texture  so  delicate  that  a  turban  or  girdle, 
if  spread  out,  would  sink  gently,  with  surprising  slow 
ness,  to  the  ground.  Nur  Mahal,  though  impoverished, 
still  retained  her  wardrobe,  and  this  scarf  was  one  of 
the  lightest  and  most  beautiful  in  her  possession. 
Nevertheless,  a  flaming  torch  thrust  into  an  oil-soaked 
beacon  could  not  have  kindled  a  tocsin  fire  of  more 
furious  significance  than  those  floating  folds.  Aware 
of  her  environment  she,  having  hastily  adjudged  Mow 
bray  guilty  of  imprudence,  should  have  been  prudent 
herself.  But  prudence  is  a  negative  quality  seldom 
allied  with  the  magnetic  powers  which  sway  men,  and 
Nur  Mahal  was  bold  in  either  love  or  hate.  Moreover, 
she  despised  her  enemies. 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  the  Emperor  pleaded  fatigue 

when  Mowbray  and  Fra  Pietro  rode  to  the  palace  that 

afternoon,  and  they  returned  to  the  Garden  of  Heart's 

Delight  more  perplexed  than  ever  by  Jahangir's  in- 

[288] 


The  Great  Mogul 

scrutable  attitude.  Of  Jai  Singh  they  could  glean  no 
tidings.  All  the  servants  in  the  late  Diwan's  residence 
were  newcomers  and  Mahomedans,  to  whom  the  old 
Rajput  was  unknown.  His  fellow-clansmen  of  the 
escort  had  no  later  intelligence  of  his  movements  than 
Walter  himself,  who,  though  restored  to  familiar  sur 
roundings,  was  nevertheless  in  the  position  of  a  traveler 
returned  to  a  place  whence  the  well-known  landmarks 
have  been  effaced. 

Fra  Pietro,  in  his  placid  way,  admired  the  beauty  of 
the  garden,  the  elegance  of  the  building,  the  wealth 
of  roses  and  flowering  plants  which  adorned  each  lovely 
vista,  and  then  settled  down  to  read  his  breviary  by  the 
waning  light. 

"It  is  a  salutary  practise,"  said  he  quietly,  "to  turn 
one's  thoughts  heavenward  when  the  world  grows  dark," 
and  indeed,  Walter,  confused  by  a  hundred  conflicting 
issues,  found  himself  regretting  the  lack  of  spirituality 
in  his  soul  which  rendered  such  solace  unattainable  in 
the  present  stress  of  events. 

For  never  was  man  more  mystified.  Clemency,  even 
from  a  Mogul  ruler,  was  not  altogether  a  vain  thing  to 
expect.  But  why  had  Jahangir's  grace  taken  such 
form  ?  If  the  Europeans  were  to  be  well  received,  why 
had  the  Emperor  denied  them  admission  to  the  fort 
under  a  trumpery  excuse,  after  having  expressed  a  wish 
to  see  them  at  once?  Where  was  Jai  Singh?  Evi 
dently  Nur  Mahal,  assuming  it  was  she  who  signalled 
from  the  tower,  had  definite  news  of  their  coming,  and 
it  was  most  unlikely  that  she  could  be  so  accurately 
[289] 


The  Great  Mogul 

informed  save  through  the  medium  of  her  devoted 
adherent.  What  mad  adventure  was  Roger  engaged 
in  that  he  was  not  come  ere  sunset,  for  he  would  reach 
Fateh  Mohammed's  camp  about  noon,  and  he  would 
surely  hasten  the  Countess's  departure,  if  unopposed, 
to  permit  arrival  at  Dilkusha  before  night  fell  ?  Yet 
the  shadows  cast  by  the  cypress  trees  were  fast  merg 
ing  with  the  somber  pall  spreading  over  the  land,  and 
not  a  sound  of  jingling  mule  bells  or  clanking  steel 
came  to  the  anxious  listener's  ears. 

Darkness  fell  with  the  phenomenal  rapidity  of  the 
vast  Indian  plain.  The  sky  was  overcast.  The  winter 
rains  were  long  due,  and  heavy  clouds  were  massed 
aloft  ready  to  break  when  the  first  cold  wind  swept 
down  from  the  Himalayas.  But  the  wind,  as  Fra 
Pietro  would  have  it,  was  only  surpassed  in  fickleness 
by  woman,  and  it  chose  now  to  linger  in  the  icy  solitudes 
of  the  awful  hills  rather  than  seek  the  pasture  lands 
awaiting  its  caress.  Hence,  the  atmosphere  was  op 
pressive,  stirred  only  by  languorous  zephyrs  from  the 
southwest,  and  the  silence  of  the  garden  was  such  that 
the  uneasy  perching  of  a  bird  or  the  rustle  of  a  mon 
goose  in  the  undergrowth  were  sounds  of  import, 
demanding  watchful  eyes  and  strained  hearing. 

Mowbray  and  the  friar  were  lodged  in  that  part  of 
the  building  which  overlooked  the  baraduri,  or  summer- 
house.  As  frail  man,  whether  warrior  or  saint,  must 
eat,  the  pair  partook  of  a  well  served  meal.  Other 
things  being  equal  the  repast  would  have  provided  a 
grateful  change  from  the  hard  fare  of  the  journey  up- 
[290] 


The  Great  Mogul 

country.  But  anxiety  is  a  poor  sauce,  and  they  ate 
rather  because  they  must  than  because  they  chose. 
And  now,  even  the  Franciscan  put  aside  for  the  hour 
his  indifference  to  matters  mundane. 

"  Our  good  Roger  is  belated,  I  fear,"  he  said.  "  Un 
less  he  cometh  soon  I  shall  offer  a  prayer  in  his  behalf 
to  St.  James,  the  special  patron  of  all  who  travel  by 
night." 

"  If  the  result  be  guaranteed,  brother,  pray  earnestly, 
I  beg  you,  and,  should  your  list  of  heavenly  advocates 
include  one  noted  for  his  wise  counsel,  ask  him  to  guide 
our  steps  aright  when  next  we  leave  this  bewitched 
abode.  In  my  childhood  I  was  told  that  the  little 
people  who  dwell  under  the  green  knolls  on  the  hillsides 
always  lead  those  mortals  who  fall  into  their  power  to 
scenes  of  fairy  beauty.  Certes,  this  garden  is  planned 
for  like  sorcery.  I  first  entered  it  a  simple  trader,  but 
ever  since  that  day  my  brains  have  been  clouded  and 
my  feet  meshed  in  hidden  snares." 

Walter  spoke  bitterly,  else  he  would  not  have  even 
hinted  at  his  disbelief  in  the  efficacy  of  the  apostolic 
protection.  There  never  was  man  of  humbler  spirit 
than  Fra  Pietro,  yet  he  took  up  the  cudgels  in  earnest 
when  his  companion  seemed  to  discredit  the  son  of 
Zebedee  and  Salome. 

"Blame  not  the  Garden  of  Eden  because  it  held  a 
snake,"  said  he.  "Whether  in  garden  or  desert  the 
Lord  will  listen  to  my  petition,  and  grant  it  the  more 
readily,  should  it  be  for  the  good  of  my  soul,  if  it  be 
carried  to  the  foot  of  the  throne  by  a  holy  sponsor  like 
[291] 


The  Great  Mogul 

St.  James.  His  mother,  some  commentators  hold,  was 
sister  to  the  Blessed  Virgin ;  he  taught  the  gospel  to  each 
of  the  twelve  tribes;  and  he  was  the  first  Christian 
bishop  to  undergo  martyrdom.  He  is  ever  portrayed 
with  the  gourd,  shell,  staff,  and  cap  of  a  traveler,  and  it 
is  only  reasonable  to  suppose  that  such  a  pillar  of  the 
Church  should  be  in  special  favor  in  that  eternal  garden 
where  he  is  receiving  the  reward  of  his  earthly  suffer 
ings." 

The  friar's  outburst,  delivered  with  much  fervor, 
aroused  Mowbray  to  some  sense  of  bis  involuntary 
error. 

"I  beseech  your  pardon,  good  Brother  Peter,"  he 
cried.  "Not  for  a  moment  would  I  dare  to  dispara[ 
St.  James.  Forget  my  heedless  words.  My  faith,  was 
it  not  one  named  after  him  who  packed  me  neck  and 
crop  into  such  wanderings  as  have  not  been  endured 
by  many  of  my  generation,  unless  it  be  those  few 
countrymen  of  mine  who  crossed  the  Spanish  Main 
with  Hawkins  and  Grenville?  Assuredly,  it  would  ill 
become  me  to  question  the  potency  of  a  James,  whether 
Saint  or  King,  where  travelers  were  concerned." 

Perhaps  he  had  phrased  his  apology  better  were  he 
less  preoccupied.  The  Franciscan,  watching  him, 
sighed  and  murmured :  — 

"  Gratiam  tuam  quaesmus,  Domine,  mentibus  nostris 
infunde ! " 

The  hours  passed  and  naught  happened,  until  Mow- 
bray,  harassed  by  evil  forebodings,  resolved  that  further 
inaction  was  not  to  be  endured.     He  marshaled  his 
[292] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Rajputs,  of  whom  there  were  fourteen,  and  asked  for 
three  volunteers  who  would  ride  to  Fateh  Mohammed's 
camp  and  bring  news.  He  would  see  to  it  that  they 
were  allowed  to  depart  from  Dilkusha,  and  thenceforth 
they  were  not  to  draw  rein  until  they  reached  the  camp, 
which  they  were  to  enter  by  such  means  as  seemed 
best  to  them.  If  Saintou-sahib  were  there  they  must 
return  with  utmost  speed,  one  or  all,  as  soon  as  they 
had  gleaned  some  explanation  of  the  sahib's  detention. 

Each  man  was  willing,  so  he  selected  three,  and  one 
other,  whom  he  commissioned  to  search  the  bazaar 
and  inquire  in  likely  quarters  for  tidings  of  Jai  Singh. 

There  was  some  difficulty  at  the  gate,  but  Mowbray's 
determined  air,  no  less  than  the  truculent  attitude  of 
his  men,  whose  belief  in  him  was  unbounded,  soon 
quelled  the  scruples  of  the  doorkeeper,  and  the  four 
clattered  out  into  the  night.  It  was  now  ten  o'clock, 
and,  in  Walter's  opinion,  nothing  short  of  force  had 
kept  Roger  from  joining  him  within  the  preceding  five 
hours.  He  deemed  it  wise  to  guard  the  gate  on  his 
own  account,  so  he  selected  the  oldest  Rajput,  one  Devi 
Pershad,  to  act  as  lieutenant,  while  he  split  up  the 
remainder  of  his  small  force  into  three  watches. 

He  gave  strict  orders  that  thenceforth,  until  day 
break,  none  should  enter  or  leave  the  compound  without 
his  knowledge  and  sanction,  and  he  fancied  that  the 
Musulman  durwan,  thus  deposed  from  his  duties, 
smiled  maliciously  when  he  heard  the  lordly  stranger 
imposing  his  will  on  those  who  maintained  the  dwelling 
for  Jahangir. 

[293] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Instantly  the  man  was  put  to  the  test.  Ere  he  could 
banish  the  smile  from  his  face,  Mowbray  grasped  him 
by  the  neck,  and  Devi  Pershad  held  a  lantern  close  to 
his  eyes  while  his  master  bared  Sher  Afghan's  dagger. 

"How  now,  dog!"  Walter  cried.  "Wouldst  thou 
dare  to  question  my  commands  ?  " 

The  door-keeper's  knees  yielded.  Here  was  one  who 
read  his  thoughts. 

"Not  so,  protector  of  the  poor,"  he  gasped,  "but 
many  have  come  within  the  hour,  and  there  may  be 
others." 

"  Many,  sayst  thou  ?  There  are  not  twenty  servants 
in  the  house  all  told,"  and  he  shook  the  fellow  till  his 
teeth  rattled. 

"  I  am  a  poor  man,  sahib  —  and  I  do  as  I  am  bid. 
Those  who  come  with  a  sign  —  I  admit,"  was  the 
stuttering  answer. 

"  What  manner  of  sign  ?  " 

"Some  tap  once  and  cry  sufed-kira  (death  watch); 
others  tap  thrice  and  say  Jai  (victory),  and  it  was  my 
hukm  to  admit  both  without  question." 

If  the  trembling  wretch's  confession  needed  evidence 
it  was  fittingly  supplied.  From  without  came  three 
slight  knocks  and  a  voice :  — 

"  Within  there,  brother.     The  word  is  Jai! " 

Mowbray  released  the  durwan,  sheathed  his  dagger 
and  drew  his  sword.  He  motioned  to  the  door. 

"Open,  and  act  as  thou  wouldst  have  done  were  I 
not  here,"  he  muttered.  He  and  Devi  Pershad,  with 
the  Rajputs  of  the  first  guard,  hastened  into  the  dark 
[294] 


Instantly  the  man  was  put  to  the  test. 


The  Great  Mogul 

interior  of  the  lodge  while  the  man  unbound  the  gate. 
There  entered  a  very  harmless  couple,  a  bhisti,  carrying 
his  empty  water-bag  of  goatskin,  and  a  veiled  woman 
whose  simple  garb  showed  that  she  was  of  the  same 
caste,  in  all  probability  his  wife. 

But  why  had  such  a  pair  used  a  password,  and  why 
were  two  different  passwords  in  vogue  at  all  that  night  ? 
Here  was  a  minor  riddle  of  which  a  sword-point  might 
find  the  key.  Walter  sprang  forth  and  seized  the  water- 
carrier.  The  woman  uttered  a  slight  cry  of  alarm,  but 
seemed  to  regain  instant  control  of  herself.  The  poor 
bhisti  was  so  taken  aback  by  the  sight  of  the  gleaming 
blade  with  which  the  Englishman  enforced  his  stern 
demand  for  information  that  he  uttered  not  a  word. 
His  jaw  fell  and  he  gazed  up  at  Walter  in  dumb  fear. 

Somehow,  when  the  rays  of  the  lantern  revealed  his 
features,  Mowbray  thought  he  knew  the  man.  Sud 
denly,  recollection  came.  This  was  the  palace  servant 
who  warned  him  and  Roger  against  Jahangir's  malice 
on  the  day  of  the  wild  beast  combats. 

But,  whatever  form  Mowbray's  questions  might  have 
taken,  all  such  speculations  were  driven  from  his  brain, 
and  he  released  the  bhisti  in  blank  amazement,  when  a 
well-remembered  voice  murmured  sweetly :  — 

"Harm  him  not,  Walter.  He  is  a  humble  well- 
wisher  who  escorted  me  hither." 

It  was  Nur  Mahal  who  spoke.     Never  before  had 

she  addressed  him  by  his  Christian  name,  the  sound  of 

which  she  must  have  learned  owing  to  Roger's  frequent 

use  of  it.     Clearly,  she  had  acquired  its  facile  pronun- 

[295] 


ciation  by  much  private  endeavor,  for  his  own  mother 
could  not  have  uttered  the  word  more  accurately. 

And  what  was  he  to  say,  or  do?  Though  it  was 
always  a  likely  thing  that  Nur  Mahal,  knowing  he  was 
in  Agra,  would  endeavor  to  reach  him,  now  that  she 
was  actually  here  how  should  he  shape  his  course  to 
avoid  the  complications  sure  to  result  if  her  visit  came 
to  Jahangir's  ears  ?  It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  if  his 
brain  whirled  with  jostling  thoughts,  nor  that  her 
presence  should  obscure  for  the  nonce  the  vital  impor 
tance  of  ascertaining  the  significance  of  the  pass 
words,  whose  mere  choice  showed  that  they  represented 
the  rival  factions  of  Mahomedans  and  Hindus. 

"I  see  that  you  are  not  to  be  taken  by  surprise,  let 
those  plan  who  will,"  she  whispered,  and  she  laughed 
musically,  with  a  certain  frolicsome  lightness  long 
absent  from  her  manner.  Was  the  winsome  maid  of 
the  Garden  of  Heart's  Delight  re-born  amidst  the  sor 
rows  which  encompassed  her  ?  Was  her  rapid  descent 
from  high  estate  the  means  of  her  regeneration,  seeing 
that  content  oft  arrives  by  the  door  through  which 
ambition  departs  ?  Who  could  tell  ?  Certainly  not 
Mowbray,  to  whose  already  grievous  load  of  cares  her 
presence  added  no  inconsiderable  charge. 

But,  if  the  man  were  flurried,  the  woman  was  not. 
She  threw  back  her  veil,  being  ever  disdainful  of  the 
ordinance  that  women  of  rank  and  beauty  should  hide 
their  faces  from  the  common  ken. 

"Thank  you,  good  fellow,"  she  said  to  the  bhisti. 
"  Get  you  back  to  the  fort  speedily,  and  remember  that 
[296] 


The  Great  Mogul 

those  who  serve  me  without  words  shall  be  paid  ten 
times  more  than  those  who  talk.  Ah!"  she  continued, 
turning  to  the  wondering  Rajputs  who,  of  course, 
recognized  her  as  soon  as  the  light  illumined  her  ani 
mated  features,  "  Jai  Singh  told  me  you  were  faithful 
to  your  salt.  It  could  not  be  otherwise  with  men  from 
Rajputana,  yet  such  fidelity  is  worthy  of  reward.  It 
shall  not  be  long  delayed." 

The  coarse  linen  sari  of  the  water-carrier's  wife  had 
fallen  from  her  head  and  shoulders,  and  even  the 
flickering  glimmer  of  the  oil  lamp  revealed  the  fact  that 
Nur  Mahal  was  attired  with  uncommon  splendor.  She 
not  only  looked  but  spoke  like  a  queen,  and  her  wray  of 
addressing  the  poor  retainers  at  the  gate  was  as  gracious 
and  dignified  as  if  they  were  court  nobles. 

"  Have  you  brought  no  other  retinue  ?  "  asked  Walter, 
at  a  loss  for  more  pertinent  question  before  so  many 
inquisitive  ears. 

She  laughed  again,  and  the  silvery  note  of  her  mirth 
was  pleasant  if  disconcerting. 

"All  in  good  time,"  she  said.  "Let  us  go  to  the 
house,  but  first  inquire,  if  you  do  not  know,  who  have 
preceded  me.  Then  I  shall  tell  you  who  will  come 
after." 

Amidst  the  chaos  of  his  ideas  Mowbray  was  con 
scious  that  Nur  Mahal  was  rendering  him  one  invalua- 
able  service.  She  brought  with  her  certainty  where  all 
was  void.  Her  words,  her  air,  betokened  a  fixed  pur 
pose.  For  all  he  knew  he  might  be  a  pawn  or  a  king 
in  the  game  she  was  playing,  but,  until  he  was  further 
[297] 


The  Great  Mogul 

enlightened,  it  was  advisable  to  move  as  she  directed. 
Then,  being  a  free  agent,  he  might  become  erratic. 

The  doorkeeper,  brought  to  the  domain  of  dry 
figures,  whittled  down  his  earlier  statement  as  to  the 
number  of  strange  visitors  he  had  admitted.  There 
were  two  Mahomedans,  using  the  significant  counter 
sign  "Death  Watch,"  while  no  less  than  eight  Hindus, 
excluding  Nur  Mahal  (herself  a  Mahomedan),  were  of 
the  "  Victory  "  party.  He  knew  none.  His  orders  were 
from  the  Grand  Vizier. 

"  Whither  have  they  gone  ?  Are  they  secreted  in  the 
house  ? "  demanded  Mowbray. 

"Enough  said,"  was  Nur  Mahal's  laconic  interrup 
tion.  "  Come  with  me.  I  will  explain." 

She  led  him  into  the  avenue  of  cypresses.  When 
he  would  have  spoken  she  caught  his  arm. 

"Not  here!"  she  whispered.  "I  am  told  you  are 
lodged  in  the  Peacock  Room.  Let  us  converse  there 
in  privacy." 

"You  know  so  much,"  he  murmured,  "that  per 
chance  you  can  tell  me  what  has  befallen  Roger  Sain- 
ton?" 

She  stopped. 

"  Why  did  he  leave  you  ?  "  she  asked. 

"He  went  to  rescue  one  whom  he  promised  not  to 
abandon.  My  fear  of  intrigue  led  him  to  bring  the 
lady  here  ere  it  was  too  late." 

"  To  bring  a  woman  —  here ! " 

"WTiy  not?     If  one  woman,  why  not  another?" 

"Come!"  she  urged.  "We  are  at  cross  purposes. 
[298] 


The  Great  Mogul 

but  I  have  no  information  as  to  Sainton-sahib.  I  had 
hoped  he  was  with  you,  for  he  is  worth  a  thousand. 
Silence  now!" 

His  feet  crunched  the  gravel  of  the  path,  yet  he  dis 
dained  to  walk  stealthily.  Nur  Mahal's  tiny  slippers 
made  no  noise.  She  moved  by  his  side  with  swift 
grace,  and  when  he  would  have  made  a  detour,  led  him 
to  the  main  entrance,  paying  no  heed  to  those  of  the 
house  servants  stationed  at  the  door,  though  they  stared 
as  if  she  were  a  ghost.  It  may  be  that  some  among 
them  were  aware  of  her  identity,  but  in  any  case  the 
apparition  of  such  a  woman,  unveiled,  in  the  company 
of  a  foreigner,  was  sufficiently  remarkable  in  India  to 
create  unbounded  astonishment. 

She  swept  on  through  the  building,  casting  aside  the 
cumbersome  sari  as  if  its  purpose  of  concealment  were 
at  an  end.  The  few  lamps  which  lit  the  inner  rooms 
were  scattered  and  dim,  but  Mowbray  could  see  that 
his  first  impression  as  to  the  magnificence  of  her  gar 
ments  was  not  a  mistaken  one.  She  had  yielded  so  far 
to  convention,  being  a  widow,  as  to  wear  a  purple  dress, 
but  the  bodice  of  white  silk  was  fringed  with  silver,  an 
exquisite  shawl  draped  her  shoulders  in  diaphanous 
folds,  diamonds  gleamed  in  her  hair,  and  her  rapid 
movements  showed  that  her  silk  stockings  were  shot 
with  silver.  A  strange  garb,  truly,  for  one  who,  accord 
ing  to  Jai  Singh,  lived  on  a  pittance  of  one  rupee  a  day, 
and  even  more  noteworthy  when  the  manner  and  hour 
of  her  visit  to  Dilkusha  were  taken  into  account. 

When  she  entered  the  Peacock  Room  she  found  Fra 
[299] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Pietro  kneeling,  with  his  face  sunk  in  his  hands,  near  to 
the  charpoy,  or  roughly  contrived  bedstead,  which,  like 
all  Europeans,  he  preferred  to  the  cushions  of  the  East. 
Walter  had  quitted  the  room  by  another  door,  so  the 
worthy  Franciscan's  spellbound  look,  when  he  raised 
his  eyes  to  learn  who  it  was  who  came  from  the  interior 
of  the  house  and  saw  the  radiant  figure  of  Nur  Mahal, 
would  surely,  under  other  circumstances,  have  brought 
a  laugh  to  Walter's  lips. 

The  friar,  wishing  to  read  some  portion  of  the  daily 
"office,"  had  obtained  four  lamps  and  trimmed  them 
with  some  care.  Comparatively  speaking,  there  was  a 
flood  of  light  at  his  end  of  the  spacious  chamber,  and 
the  obscurity  reigning  in  the  further  part  only  added  to 
the  bewildering  effect  of  the  sylph-like  being  who,  after 
advancing  a  little  way,  stood  and  gazed  at  him  irreso 
lutely. 

But  Mowbray's  firm  tread  broke  the  spell  against 
which  Fra  Pietro  was  already  fortifying  himself  by 
fervent  ejaculations.  A  prophet  surprised  by  the  ful 
filment  of  his  own  prophecy,  he  rose  to  his  feet,  and 
bowed  with  the  ready  politeness  of  his  race. 

"  Princess,"  he  said,  speaking  Urdu,  with  slow  pre 
cision,  "I  greet  you!  None  but  you  can  resolve  our 
perplexities.  You  are,  indeed,  well  come!" 

The  aspect  of  the  friar,  with  the  shaven  crown,  un- 
trimmed  beard,  coarse  brown  robe  and  hood,  white 
cords  and  rough  sandals  of  St.  Francis  d'Assisi,  was  no 
less  astounding  to  Nur  Mahal  than  was  her  regal  sem 
blance  to  him.  In  her  eyes  he  was  on  a  parity  with  the 
[300] 


fakirs,  the-  mullahs,  the  religious  mendicants  of  her 
adopted  country.  The  few  Europeans  she  had  seen 
were  soldiers,  merchants,  or  dignified  ecclesiastics  of 
the  Jesuit  order,  but  here  was  one  whose  poverty- 
stricken  appearance  might  well  have  prejudiced  her 
against  him.  Like  the  Apostle  whose  name  he  bore, 
Fra  Pietro  had  said :  "  Lo,  we  have  left  all,  and  followed 
Thee."  Of  such  renunciatory  gospel  Nur  Mahal  had 
no  cognizance. 

Nevertheless,  such  was  the  depth  of  this  girl-widow's 
sagacity,  that  she  caught  instantly  from  the  Francis 
can's  benign  features  some  glimpse  of  his  exalted  char 
acter.  She  half  turned  to  Walter  with  her  enchanting 
smile :  — 

"  I  had  forgotten  the  presence  of  your  friend.  This, 
doubtless,  is  the  priest  of  whom  I  have  heard,  and  for 
whose  sake  you  dared  do  more  than  for  mine." 

"  I  owed  him  my  life,  and  more,  for  he  saved  me  from 
unimagined  horrors.  Nor  is  the  debt  yet  paid  in  full," 
was  the  reply. 

"  Can  I  speak  openly  before  him  ?  " 

"You  may  trust  Fra  Pietro,  Princess,  as  you  would 
trust  none  other." 

"  Yet  I  have  trusted  many  to-night.  Now  list  to  me 
carefully,  fof  time  presses.  Jahangir  dies  ere  day 
break,  and  there  is  much  to  be  done  by  a  man  who 
shall  risk  all." 

"  The  Emperor  dies !  Do  you  mean  that  he  is  to  be 
murdered  ?  " 

"  Call  it  what  you  will,  his  death  is  ordained.  Nay, 
[301] 


The  Great  Mogul 

frown  not  so  ominously.  'Tis  not  of  my  planning. 
Those  who  wish  his  downfall  are  not  seeking  to  avenge 
my  wrongs.  If  they  succeed,  and  I  see  no  reason  why 
they  should  fail,  they  aim  at  placing  Khusrow  on  the 
throne.  And  who  is  Khusrow?  A  boy  of  ten!  I,  a 
woman,  am  a  mere  puppet  in  their  hands.  That  is 
why  I  am  here.  You  see  one  who  is  in  the  counsels  of 
both  parties  yet  bound  to  neither." 

She  threw  back  her  head,  and  the  circlet  of  brilliants 
across  her  smooth  white  brow  did  not  send  forth 
brighter  gleams  than  her  eyes.  Speaking  so  freely  of 
treason  and  dynastic  plots,  she  smiled  as  though  the 
whole  affair  were  some  hoax  of  which  she  alone  knew 
the  petty  secret. 

"You  have  met  Raja  Man  Singh  and  his  ally,  the 
Maharaja  of  Bikanir?"  she  continued,  coolly,  before 
Walter  could  decide  what  shape  the  tumultuous  ques 
tions  trembling  on  his  lips  should  take. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  "  and  they  are  well  aware  with 
what  loathing  I  regard  their  schemes." 

"It  is  always  possible  to  change  one's  mind,"  she 
said  slowly.  "  I  cannot,  in  a  few  minutes,  give  you  the 
history  of  months ;  the  record  of  the  past  few  hours  must 
suffice.  Since  it  was  known  that  you  and  the  Hathi- 
sahib  were  returning  to  Agra  there  has  been  naught 
but  plot  and  counter-plot.  First,  those  who  conspire 
against  the  Emperor  look  to  you  to  help  them,  and  are 
even  now  awaiting  you  in  the  baraduri  at  the  bottom 
of  the  garden.  Secondly,  Jahangir,  well  aware  of  their 
intent,  has  resolved  to  ensnare  them  and  you  in  one 
[302] 


cast  of  the  net.  Hence,  the  followers  of  Raja  Man 
Singh  and  those  others  who  will  strike  for  Khusrow  are 
gathering  silently,  some  within  a  stone's  throw  of  the 
outer  walls  of  the  palace,  ready  to  follow  their  leader 
in  the  attack  on  the  fort,  where  the  guard  of  the  Delhi 
Gate  will  admit  them,  the  remainder  among  the  trees 
without.  But  the  forces  of  the  Emperor,  ten  times 
more  numerous,  will  fall  on  them  at  midnight,  whereas 
the  revolt  is  timed  for  the  first  hour.  Already  the 
traitors  inside  the  fort  have  been  secured.  A  few  live 
to  delude  their  friends  —  most  are  dead.  All  this,  you 
may  say,  concerns  you  not.  You  are  wrong,  Mowbray- 
sahib.  You  are  a  greater  man  than  you  think.  The 
conspirators  count  surely  on  your  assistance  and  that 
of  Sainton-sahib,  whose  repute  with  the  common  people 
is  worth  a  whole  army.  Therefore,  lest  aught  miscar 
ried,  they  came  to  me  and  urged  me  to  induce  you  to 
head  the  outbreak.  Though  I  am  a  weak  woman,  I 
might  not  have  consented  had  not  the  Emperor  joined 
his  supplications  to  theirs." 

"  The  Emperor ! "  cried  Walter,  with  involuntary 
loudness. 

"Hush!  The  baraduri  is  not  far  distant.  Yes, 
Jahangir  still  favors  me  with  his  jealousy.  He  does  not 
know  that  —  that  —  you  are  longing  for  the  sight  of 
some  other  woman  beyond  the  black  seas.  Do  not 
misunderstand  me.  Jahangir  hates  me  and  fears  you. 
Kept  well  informed  by  his  spies  of  all  that  was  going 
on,  he  connived  at  the  scheme  which  brought  you  and 
me  to  the  forefront  of  the  rebellion.  Thus,  when  he 
[303] 


The  Great  Mogul 

stamps  it  out  in  blood,  we  shall  be  the  chief  victims. 
But  that  is  not  all.  Raja  Man  Singh  and  his  friends 
are  in  no  mind  to  kill  Jahangir  and  clear  the  way  for  a 
foreign  intruder.  They,  too,  see  how  we  may  serve 
their  ends.  Once  the  Emperor  is  dead  it  will  be  a 
fitting  excuse  to  get  rid  of  us  on  the  ground  that  we 
conspired  against  him." 

"  'Tis  a  pretty  plot,"  said  Mowbray,  grimly.  "  Hath 
it  any  further  twists  ?  " 

"  Yes,  one.  Raja  Man  Singh,  Khusrow,  and  the  rest 
are  doomed.  Few  of  them  shall  see  the  sun  again. 
The  man  who  contrived  their  fate  is  far  more  skilled 
in  intrigue  than  they.  Behind  Jahangir  and  his  feud 
with  me  stands  the  black  robe." 

"Dom  Geronimo!     I  thought  him  dead." 

"  He  may  be,  but  he  lived  to-day,"  was  Nur  Mahal's 
careless  answer.  "  Living  or  dead,  his  hour  has  passed. 
Others,  too,  can  think  and  plan.  Not  plotters  now,  but 
swords  are  needed.  I  would  that  Sainton-sahib  were 
here.  Why  did  you  let  him  go  ?  " 

"  He  is  hard  to  restrain  when  set  on  anything.  But 
you  would  not  have  him  and  me,  with  twenty  troopers, 
fight  for  our  own  hand  'gainst  all  India!" 

She  came  nearer  to  the  listening  men.  In  her  eager 
ness  she  grasped  each  by  an  arm  and  whispered :  — 

"  Jai  Singh  is  within  call  with  two  hundred.  A  few 
determined  men  to-night  are  worth  thousands  to-mor 
row.  Three  hoots  of  an  owl  from  the  wall  behind  the 
baraduri  will  bring  him  and  them.  You  have  the 
leaders  of  the  revolt  gathered  in  the  summer-house, 
[304] 


The  Great  Mogul 

whence  they  will  soon  send  a  messenger  to  summon  you 
to  council.  They  know  I  am  here  and  await  my 
pleasure.  Above  them  —  "  and  now  her  voice  dropped 
so  low  that  the  words  only  just  reached  their  ears  — 
"you  have  Jahangir  himself  and  his  principal  minion, 
Ibrahim,  the  Chief  Eunuch!" 

Her  eyes  blazed  with  the  intensity  of  her  emotion. 
Great  though  her  power  of  self-control,  she  quivered 
slightly,  and  the  action,  trivial  in  itself,  told  that  this 
woman  was  the  nerve-center  of  an  empire.  She  waited 
no  comment.  The  moment  long  looked  for  had  come 
at  last.  India,  with  all  its  potentialities,  was  within  her 
grasp. 

"Doubt  not,  but  act!"  she  murmured,  passionately, 
seeing  the  incredulity  in  the  men's  faces.  "  In  the  roof 
of  the  baraduri  there  is  a  secret  chamber,  contrived 
there,  for  their  own  purposes,  by  Akbar  and  my  father. 
From  it,  in  fancied  security,  Jahangir  and  Ibrahim  can 
see  and  hear  all  that  passes  beneath.  I  took  care  they 
should  know  of  it.  'Twas  too  good  a  bait  to  pass,  and 
they  swallowed  it.  What  joy  can  equal  the  Emperor's 
when  he  hears  his  enemies  plotting  with  you  and  me  to 
place  us  on  his  throne,  knowing  full  well  that  ere  many 
minutes  have  passed  we  shall  be  slain  or,  far  better, 
captured,  so  that  he  may  glut  his  vengeance  on  us? 
Come  with  me!  Let  a  Rajput  give  the  signal  to  Jai 
Singh.  Without  any  fear  of  failure,  almost  without  a 
blow,  you  will  have  both  Jahangir  and  Khusrow's 
adherents  in  your  power  to  do  with  as  you  will." 

They  could  not  choose  but  believe  her.  Here  was  a 
[305] 


The  Great  Mogul 

counter-stroke,  worthy  indeed  of  the  daughter  of  one 
who  entered  India  a  pauper  and  died  Prime  Minister. 
Walter's  head  swam,  and  Fra  Pietro  shook  as  if  with 
a  palsy. 

"There  is  no  other  course  open,"  she  murmured, 
vehemently.  "It  is  your  death  and  mine,  or  Jahan- 
gir's.  Decide  quickly!  Do  you  flinch  from  the 
ordeal ? " 

"  No,"  said  Mowbray,  recovering  himself.  "  If  such 
be  the  alternatives,  may  God  prosper  those  who  are  in 
the  right!" 

Nur  Mahal  released  them.  Walter  would  have  sent 
for  Devi  Pershad,  and  in  a  few  fateful  seconds  the 
irrevocable  step  must  be  taken  which  should  plunge 
India  into  an  era  of  turmoil  and  bloodshed.  But  a 
tumult  of  alarm  among  the  household  servants,  and 
the  clatter  of  hurried  footsteps  in  the  interior  of  the 
house,  betokened  some  new  and  unforeseen  commotion. 
Then  the  door  by  which  Nur  Mahal  and  Mowbray  had 
entered  the  room  was  flung  open  and  Roger  appeared, 
carrying  in  his  left  arm  the  apparently  lifeless  body  of 
the  Countess  di  Cabota.  His  long  sword  was  dripping 
blood,  and  his  clothes  were  rent  by  cuts  and  lance 
thrusts,  but  his  genial  face,  never  downcast  when  a 
fight  was  toward,  broke  into  a  broad  grin  when  he  saw 
Walter. 

"By  the  cross  of  Osmotherly!"  he  roared,  "I  have 

had  the  devil's  own  job  to  reach  thee,  lad.     I  have 

fought  every  inch  of  a  good  mile,  and  been  ambushed 

times  out  of  count.     Poor  Matilda  fainted  at  the  last 

[306] 


The  Great  Mogul 

onset.  I  had  to  hug  her  with  one  arm  and  slay  with 
the  other.  Gad!  it  was  warm  work.  She  is  no  light 
weight!" 

He  deposited  his  inanimate  burthen  on  a  charpoy 
and  cleared  his  vision  of  blood  and  perspiration,  for 
he  had  been  wounded  slightly  on  the  forehead.  Then 
he  set  eyes  on  Nur  Mahal. 

"  Oh,  ho,  my  lady,  art  thou  here  ?  "  he  said.  "  Small 
wonder  there  were  such  goings  on  without!  By  gad, 
thou  art  the  herald  of  storm  on  land  as  the  petrel  is  at 
sea.  Walter,  my  lad,  give  us  a  grip  of  thy  hand !  I'm 
main  glad  to  meet  thee  again.  But  Matilda  needs 
tending.  Bid  this  glittering  fairy  see  to  her.  Whether 
Portugee  or  Hindee,  I  suppose  women  are  much  alike 
in  such  matters!" 


[307] 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

"Gregory,  remember  thy  swashing  blow." 

Romeo  and  Juliet,  Act  I,  Sc.  1. 

BUT  there  were  matters  of  graver  import  afoot  than 
the  Countess's  fainting  fit.  Already  the  conspirators 
in  the  summer-house,  alarmed  by  the  commotion,  must 
be  devising  means  to  protect  themselves,  and  the  Em 
peror,  ensconced  in  a  hiding-place  after  the  fashion 
invented  by  Dionysius  of  Syracuse,  was  probably 
doubting  the  wisdom  of  his  Haroun-al-Raschid  esca 
pade.  For  Roger,  bursting  through  the  hostile  cordons 
like  an  infuriated  blue-bottle  fly  caught  in  the  outer 
strands  of  a  spider's  web,  had  applied  a  premature 
spark  to  a  gunpowder  train.  The  silence  of  the  night 
was  jarred  into  fierce  uproar.  The  imperial  troops, 
thinking  the  revolt  had  broken  out  before  its  appointed 
hour,  were  hurriedly  closing  in  around  the  rebels. 
The  latter,  strenuously  opposing  Sainton's  passage  up 
the  hill  leading  to  the  Garden  of  Heart's  Delight,  com 
municated  a  panic  for  action,  which  is  the  next  worst 
thing  to  a  flight,  to  those  of  their  comrades  who  knew 
not  what  was  happening.  In  a  word,  the  left  bank  of 
the  Jumna  was  ablaze,  and  sharp  encounters  occurred 
wherever  the  Emperor's  men  met  those  who  fought 
for  his  would-be  supplanter,  Khusrow.  At  the  gate 
[308] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Devi  Pershad  and  the  Rajputs,  manfully  aided  by  the 
house  servants,  were  even  then  resisting  the  efforts  of 
the  rebels  previously  hidden  in  the  wood  to  break  open 
the  door  and  go  to  the  aid  of  their  leaders  within. 
Indeed,  Roger  had  barely  ceased  speaking,  before  a 
sowar,  one  of  his  own  small  escort,  ran  in  and  breath 
lessly  announced  the  desperate  nature  of  the  attack  on 
the  gateway. 

Sain  ton,  of  course,  knew  nothing  of  the  real  cause  of 
all  this  riot.  Nor  was  there  time  to  tell  him.  Mow- 
bray  grasped  the  excited  soldier. 

"  Canst  hoot  like  an  owl  ? "  he  cried. 

"Aye,  sahib,  that  can  I,"  was  the  reply,  for  the  man 
guessed  the  portent  of  the  question. 

"  Come,  then,  Roger !  Thou  knowest  the  summer- 
house?  Smite  any  man  who  leaves  it!  Nur  Mahal, 
bide  you  here  till  I  return !  Fra  Pietro,  bolt  the  doors 
and  open  only  to  me  or  Roger!" 

"  One  word,  brother,  ere  thou  goest,"  cried  the  friar 
in  English.  "A  chosen  ruler,  be  he  Christian  or 
heathen,  is  the  Lord's  anointed.  '  Curse  not  the  King, 
no,  not  in  thy  thought.'" 

Walter,  hurrying  forth,  darted  a  single  glance  at  the 
speaker.  Somehow,  the  Franciscan's  words  gave 
ordered  sequence  to  a  project  which  flitted  vaguely 
through  his  mind  as  he  listened  to  Nur  Mahal's  thril 
ling  recital.  It  seemed  to  him  that  this  beautiful 
woman,  "who  offered  herself  twice  to  no  man,"  har 
bored  a  certain  spite  against  Jahangir  because  of  the 
treatment  he  had  meted  out  to  her.  Once  she  had 
[309] 


vaguely  hinted  at  bygones  as  between  Mowbray  and 
herself;  otherwise  her  utterances  were  those  of  unsated 
and  insatiable  ambition,  and  the  style  of  her  raiment 
alone  showed  that  she  had  quitted  the  palace  that  night 
prepared  to  fill  the  stage  in  whatsoever  part  fortune 
allotted  her. 

Now  the  two  Englishmen  were  in  the  garden,  running 
towards  the  summer-house,  which,  it  will  be  remem 
bered,  stood  on  an  island  in  the  midst  of  a  small  lake, 
and  was  approached  by  four  narrow  causeways,  each 
at  right  angles  with  its  neighbors.  There  never  was  a 
darker  night.  It  was  barely  possible  to  distinguish  the 
tops  of  the  trees  against  the  sky;  beneath,  they  passed 
through  a  blackness  so  dense  that  they  could  not  see 
each  other. 

Under  such  conditions  rapid  progress  was  impossible. 
Mowbray  called  a  halt,  and  bade  the  Rajput  use  his 
skill  in  imitating  owls.  Thrice  the  long-drawn  ululu 
vibrated  in  the  scent-laden  atmosphere;  at  the  third 
screech  came  an  answering  hoot,  lanterns  twinkled  of 
a  sudden  at  the  farther  end  of  the  lawn,  and  Jai  Singh, 
with  his  rabble  of  swashbucklers,  perched  expectantly 
on  the  wall,  tumbled  pell-mell  into  the  garden. 

"We  come,  sahib!"  they  heard  his  exultant  cry. 
"  Every  man  carries  a  light  and  wears  a  black  turban. 
Spare  none  other!" 

"Ecod!"   said  Roger,   "that  is  good  talking.     Jai 

Singh  is  thin  in  the  ribs,  but  he  hath  the  liver  of  a  bull. 

Yet  there  seemeth  no  urgence  for  killing.     What  is 

toward,  Walter  ?    '  Smite,'  say  you.     '  Spare  not,'  yelps 

[310] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Jai  Singh.  Nur  Mahal  shoots  lightning  from  her  eyes. 
Even  the  good  friar  points  a  moral  with  a  text  on 
cursing  the  king.  Who  hath  cursed  him?  Whose 
throat  is  to  be  cut  ?  My  soul,  there's  battle  in  the  very 


air: 


Sainton  was  appealing  to  unheeding  ears.  The 
baraduri,  being  a  roofed  entablature  supported  on  slight 
columns,  became  vaguely  silhouetted  against  the  dim 
glow  of  the  advancing  lantern-bearers.  Walter  saw 
several  armed  men  rushing  towards  the  house  along  the 
nearest  chaussee.  It  went  against  the  grain  to  strike 
any  man  who  came  to  him  trustingly,  no  matter  what 
the  ultimate  intent,  and  among  the  foremost  he  thought 
he  recognized  Raja  Man  Singh. 

"Back,  there!"  he  shouted.  "We  are  for  Jahangir! 
Back  to  your  covert  and  lay  down  your  arms!" 

There  could  be  no  mistaking  his  meaning.  The 
conspirators,  dumbfounded  by  the  discovery  that  he 
whom  they  reckoned  an  ally  was  a  declared  foe,  stopped, 
hesitated,  and  then  broke,  left  and  right. 

"  They  must  not  escape ! "  said  Mowbray  to  his  com 
panion.  "After  them,  Jai  Singh!"  he  vociferated  to 
the  Rajput,  and  forthwith  there  was  a  scurry  in  which 
several  fell.  Nevertheless,  two,  at  least,  got  away 
through  the  trees  and  scaled  the  wall.  Raja  Man 
Singh  remained,  gasping  his  life  out,  but  he  of  Bikanir 
and  one  other  reached  the  reinforcements  outside. 

Hastily  despatching  Jai  Singh  and  his  followers  to 
defend  the  main  gate,  Mowbray  retained  only  two  men 
of  his  own  little  troop.  Equipping  them  with  lanterns, 
[311] 


The  Great  Mogul 

he  led  Roger  to  the  summer-house  and  cried  in  a  loud 
voice :  — 

"  Come  forth,  Jahangir ! " 

There  was  no  answer.  The  hollow  roof,  exquisitely 
painted  with  frescoes  representing  forest  life,  echoed 
the  command,  and  the  slight  scrutiny  rendered  possible 
by  the  weak  light  of  the  lamps  gave  force  to  Roger's 
query :  — 

"  Dost  think  to  find  him,  like  Mahmoud's  coffin, 
slung  'twixt  heaven  and  earth,  Walter?" 

But  Nur  Mahal  was  to  be  trusted  beyond  the  credence 
of  eyes  alone.  Unless  the  Emperor  had  flown,  or 
changed  his  mind  at  the  latest  moment,  he  was  surely 
there,  for  the  doorkeeper  said  two  strangers  had  passed 
by  the  watchword  "  Safed-Kira."  And  the  vital  need 
of  hurry  made  stern  measures  necessary. 

"Jahangir!"  cried  Mowbray  again,  "I  know  that 
thou  art  here,  thou  and  thy  pimp,  Ibrahim.  Nur 
Mahal  hath  sent  us  to  save  thy  life,  and  thy  throne  if 
need  be.  Descend,  therefore,  else  Sainton-sahib  shall 
pull  thee  down  together  with  thy  lurking-place." 

A  moment's  pause  brought  only  the  racket  of  desul 
tory  firing  in  the  roadway,  the  thuds  of  a  battering  ram 
against  the  iron-studded  door,  and  the  yells  of  assail 
ants  and  defenders  as  the  high  boundary  wall  was 
sought  to  be  carried  by  escalade,  for  the  Maharaja  of 
Bikanir,  now  that  his  desperate  scheme  was  unmasked, 
urged  his  adherents  ere  they  marched  to  sack  the 
palace  to  extirpate  the  brood  of  vipers  in  the  Garden 
of  Heart's  Delight. 

[312] 


The  Great  Mogul 

"  Roger,"  said  Walter,  calmly,  resolved  to  be  sure  of 
his  quarry,  "  try  thy  strength  on  a  pillar ! " 

The  summer-house,  an  elegant  hexagon,  had  a  carved 
pillar  at  each  angle.  Sainton  placed  his  foot  against 
one,  gave  a  mighty  push,  and  the  stones  yielded.  Some 
fell  with  a  clatter  onto  the  mosaic  pavement,  others 
splashed  in  the  water  of  the  lake. 

"Hold!"  came  a  muffled  cry,  "I  come!" 

A  fine  creeper  had  entwined  its  stout  tendrils  round 
three  of  the  pillars.  In  one  of  these,  cunningly  hidden 
by  the  vine,  were  small  holdfasts,  by  which  an  active 
man  might  climb  to  the  roof.  Once  there,  a  section  of 
the  blue  enameled  tiles  slid  back  and  gave  access  to  a 
small  apartment  with  a  grille  floor,  the  interstices  being 
invisible  from  beneath  owing  to  the  painted  foliage. 

Jahangir,  followed  by  Ibrahim,  made  an  undignified 
descent.  Obviously,  he  feared  a  sword  thrust  as  he 
neared  the  ground.  Yet  he  was  no  coward.  Disdain 
ing  to  jump  he  came  down  slowly,  and  faced  Mowbray 
without  laying  hand  on  the  pistol  or  jeweled  tulwar  he 
carried.  If  treachery  were  intended  he  could  not  guard 
against  it,  and  he  was  too  proud  to  exhibit  his  secret 
thought  by  useless  action. 

"  Have  I  heard  aright  ? "  he  asked,  with  well-feigned 
coolness.  "Did  you  say  that  Nur  Mahal  had  sent 
you  ?  " 

"  Yes.  How  else  should  I,  a  stranger,  know  of  your 
retreat  ?  " 

"And  neither  you  nor  she  are  in  league  with  my 
enemies  ?  " 

[313] 


The  Great  Mogul 

"Some  of  them  lie  in  the  garden.  You  hear  the 
others  without.  Are  you  man  or  king  enough  to  help 
us  in  repelling  them  ?  " 

Jahangir  bowed  his  head. 

"  God  is  great,"  he  said,  as  though  in  self-communion. 
"Never  was  mortal  more  deceived  than  I  have  been." 

Ibrahim,  Chief  Eunuch,  somewhat  restored  from  the 
rare  fright  of  the  trembling  roof,  thought  it  high  time 
to  trim  his  sails  to  the  new  wind. 

"I  always  told  your  Majesty,"  he  began;  but  Jahan 
gir,  for  answer,  smote  him  in  the  face  with  his  clenched 
fist  so  heavily  that  he  fell  into  the  lake  and  lay  there 
insensible.  He  would  have  been  drowned  had  not  a 
Rajput  pulled  him  out  and  held  him  by  the  heels  until 
a  good  deal  of  water  came  from  his  mouth  and  a  good 
many  gold  pieces  from  a  tuck  in  his  cummerband. 

Mowbray,  whose  judgment  was  cooler  and  truer  in 
the  frenzy  of  a  fight  than  when  a  woman's  eyes  assailed 
him,  did  not  forget  that  where  Jai  Singh  had  introduced 
his  hirelings  others  might  follow.  Nevertheless,  with 
the  inadequate  force  available,  it  was  impossible  to 
conduct  an  effective  defense  of  a  square  enclosure  con 
taining  many  acres.  It  was  above  all  else  essential  to 
resist  the  main  assault.  The  Eastern  fighting  man  is 
moved  to  the  madness  of  heroism  by  success,  and  driven 
to  despair  by  failure.  The  gateway  must  not  be 
carried. 

He  detailed  sentries,  therefore,  to  report  any  hostile 
move  from  the  flanks  or  rear,  in  which  case  he  would 
fall  back  on  the  house,  which  occupied  the  exact  center 
[314] 


The  Great  Mogul 

of  the  garden.  Then  he  and  the  others  hastened  to  the 
gate. 

They  were  not  a  moment  too  soon.  A  huge  balk 
of  timber,  carried  up  from  the  bridge  and  swung  by 
fifty  men  against  the  sturdy  door,  smashed  the  panels 
and  dislodged  the  hinges.  Through  the  gap  poured  a 
torrent  of  assailants,  all  well  armed,  and  the  struggle 
must  have  resulted  in  instant  victory  for  the  rebels  had 
not  Roger  faced  them. 

There  was  light  in  plenty.  Many  carried  torches, 
whilst  masses  of  tow  soaked  in  oil  had  been  placed  on 
the  ground  to  enable  the  archers  and  matchlockmen 
to  shoot.  Luckily  the  onward  rush  prevented  anything 
like  a  volley  being  fired  in  that  narrow  space,  or  the 
Emperor  and  his  English  supporters  must  certainly 
have  been  hit.  As  it  was,  the  giant  had  a  fair  field, 
steel  against  steel,  and  one  man  against  a  hundred. 

When  Roger  was  busy  there  was  no  standing-room 
for  friends  by  his  side  or  foes  in  front.  His  tremendous 
strength  was  no  less  astounding  than  his  tigerish  agility. 
His  long  sword  whirled  in  lightning  circles,  he  sprang 
back,  forth,  and  sideways  with  incredible  ease,  and  such 
was  the  area  he  covered,  combined  with  a  quick  eye  to 
discern  and  a  supple  wrist  to  disconcert  every  adven 
turous  cut  or  thrust  aimed  at  him,  that,  whilst  those 
outside  were  yelling  to  the  van  to  press  forward,  the 
unlucky  wights  of  the  front  rank  were  making  a  new 
rampart  of  their  bodies. 

Walter  found  a  corner  where  Sainton's  sickle  did  not 
reach,  and  Jahangir,  fired  to  emulation,  joined  him. 
[315] 


The  Great  Mogul 

The  three  practically  held  the  gate,  because  Jai  Singh, 
with  his  horde  of  freebooters,  did  not  quickly  regain 
his  self-possession  after  the  stupefying  discovery  that 
the  Emperor,  whom  he  was  actively  fighting  against, 
was  laying  on  with  a  will  in  behalf  of  the  English 
man. 

Others,  too,  learned  the  bewildering  fact  that  here 
was  Jahangir  himself  in  the  very  hatching  ground  of 
the  conspiracy.  The  Maharaja  of  Bikanir  saw  him, 
and  having  missed  him  twice  with  a  pistol,  adopted  a 
new  tactic  which  might  easily  have  involved  the  mon 
arch  and  the  Englishmen  in  common  ruin.  Awaiting 
the  rebel  leader,  to  carry  him  to  the  fort,  was  a  war 
elephant,  a  huge  brute,  well  protected  by  iron  plates, 
thick  knobs  of  brass,  and  chain  armor,  penetrable  by 
no  missile  short  of  a  cannon-ball.  The  animal  was 
trained  to  charge  any  one  or  anything  at  the  bidding  of 
its  mahout,  and  the  Maharaja,  mounting  the  howdah 
with  some  of  his  officers,  bade  the  driver  launch  the 
elephant  at  full  speed  through  the  gate. 

Among  the  many  physical  advantages  Roger  held 
over  other  men  not  the  least  was  his  height.  While 
dealing  with  the  present  danger  he  could  see  that  which 
threatened  farther  afield,  and  now,  above  the  heads  of 
the  combatants,  he  caught  sight  of  the  great  moving 
mass  of  shining  panoply.  Such  a  thunderbolt  would 
rend  its  way  through  all  opposition.  Swords  and  lances 
were  powerless  against  it,  but  there  lay  on  the  ground, 
wrenched  from  its  sockets  by  the  battering-ram,  the 
heavy  iron  bar  which  the  big  Yorkshireman  had  used 
[316] 


The  Great  Mogul 

so  effectively  on  the  night  that  Sher  Afghan  carried  off 
his  unwilling  bride. 

None  of  the  others  knew  of  the  approaching  peril. 
Roger  turned  to  Jai  Singh. 

"Come  on,  Don  Whiskerando ! "  he  shouted.  "I 
thought  thou  hadst  better  stomach  for  a  fray!" 

Though  he  spoke  English,  his  look  was  enough. 
The  old  Rajput  awoke  from  his  trance  and  rushed 
forward  manfully.  His  levies  followed,  the  rebels 
yielded  a  few  feet,  and  Roger  secured  breathing  space. 
He  sheathed  his  reeking  sword,  picked  up  the  iron  bar, 
and  stood  on  the  left  of  the  gateway,  balancing  the 
implement  over  his  right  shoulder  and  bracing  his  feet, 
set  wide  apart,  firmly  against  the  ground. 

A  fiercer  yell,  a  stampede  of  both  parties,  announced 
the  oncoming  of  the  new  danger.  Mowbray  and 
Jahangir  thought  that  this  was  the  end  until  they  saw 
Roger,  not  smiling  now  but  frowning,  whirl  the  bar 
lightly  as  a  preliminary  to  the  greatest  feat  he  ever 
performed.  For  the  story  lives  yet  amidst  the  glorious 
ruins  of  the  Mogul  Empire  how  the  Man -Elephant 
killed  the  elephant.  Trumpeting  loudly,  rushing 
through  the  swaying  mass  of  human  beings  as  a  whale 
cleaves  water,  the  immense  brute  seemed  to  enjoy  the 
sensation  it  created.  As  it  entered  the  gate,  with 
trunk  uplifted,  the  bar  crashed  across  its  knees.  The 
elephant  stumbled  and  fell.  Again  the  iron  flail 
whistled  in  the  air,  this  time  striking  the  brass-studded 
boss  on  the  beast's  wide  forehead.  The  thick  metal 
disks  shivered  into  fragments,  and  the  monster,  with 
[317] 


The  Great  Mogul 

fractured  skull,  lurched  over  heavily  on  its  side,  throw 
ing  the  Maharaja  of  Bikanir  and  his  lieutenants  to  the 
ground,  where  they  died  quickly  at  the  hands  of  those 
nearest  to  them. 

A  great  shout  went  up,  a  shout  of  terror  and  wonder. 
Men  ran,  throwing  away  their  arms  and  shrieking  in 
coherent  appeals,  whether  to  Allah  or  Khuda,  for  pro 
tection.  It  was  recorded  that  some  went  mad,  some 
died  from  fright,  and  many  dropped  from  exhaustion 
miles  away  from  Dilkusha  and  its  magic.  For  never 
before  had  one  man  met  a  full-grown  fighting  elephant 
face  to  face  in  single  combat  and  killed  it.  Such  deeds 
were  told  of  lions  and  tigers,  of  many-antlered  deer  and 
massive  bulls,  but  never  of  the  elephant,  which,  in  the 
plenitude  of  its  majestic  strength,  can  drag  four  score 
men  in  triumph,  let  them  tug  their  best  at  a  rope. 

"  Shabash,  hathi!  "  cried  Jahangir.  "  By  the  soul  of 
my  father,  Akbar,  if  I  am  spared  to-night  those  two 
strokes  shall  be  writ  in  history  and  recorded  in  stone ! " 

"'Twill  please  me  better  if  they  remain  in  your 
Majesty's  memory,"  was  Sainton's  gruff  answer. 
Truth  to  tell,  his  mighty  effort  had  shaken  him.  In 
that  last  almost  superhuman  blow  he  had  surpassed 
himself.  His  muscles  still  twitched  from  the  tension, 
and  he  experienced  a  curious  sympathy  for  the  magnifi 
cent  creature  whose  dying  convulsions  alone  betokened 
the  abundant  life  with  which  it  was  endowed. 

He  leaned  wearily  on  the  long  bar.     The  slaying  of 
the  elephant  was  the  culmination  of  a  day's  toil  such 
as  no  other  man  in  India  could  have  endured,  for  many 
[318] 


The  Great  Mogul 

a  stout  warrior  had  fallen  under  his  sword  ere  he 
carried  the  Countess  di  Cabota  into  the  Garden  of 
Heart's  Delight. 

But  the  Emperor,  not  to  be  rebuffed  thus  curtly, 
seized  him  by  the  arm. 

"Harken,  friend,"  said  he,  "one  lie  will  poison  a 
river  of  truth.  They  told  me  'twas  thy  intent  to  tumble 
my  palace  about  my  ears.  Tomb  of  the  Prophet,  what 
will  not  a  man  believe  when  he  lends  his  wits  to  women 
and  wine  ?  Never  was  king  more  beholden  to  stranger 
than  I  to  thee  and  thy  friend ;  canst  thou  not  credit  my 
faith  when  I  say  that  no  recompense  you  ask  shall  be 
too  great  for  me  to  give  ?  " 

Sainton  turned  and  clapped  the  Emperor  on  the 
shoulder. 

"I  have  oft  wondered,"  he  cried,  "how  so  good  a 
soldier  could  be  a  bad  king.  Now  I  see  'twas  a  passing 
fit,  which,  mayhap,  like  certain  distempers,  leaves  thee 
wholesomer." 

And  that  was  how  Jahangir  and  Roger  began  a 
comradeship  which  was  never  marred  nor  forgotten 
while  either  lived. 

Mowbray,  though  delighted  that  Sainton's  rough 
diplomacy  had  won  the  Emperor  so  thoroughly,  never 
theless  kept  a  sharp  lookout  for  any  recrudescence  of 
the  fight.  But  the  back  of  the  revolt  was  broken. 
He  who  escaped  with  the  Maharaja  of  Bikanir,  riding 
post-haste  for  fresh  troops,  was  captured  by  the  imperial 
forces,  and  a  strong  contingent  of  mounted  men  arriving 
at  Dilkusha  relieved  the  little  garrison  of  further  con- 
[319] 


cern.  Jahangir  despatched  several  officers  with  in 
structions,  the  exact  significance  of  which  Walter  failed 
to  grasp.  He  knew  it  was  hopeless  to  expect  clemency 
for  those  who  fomented  the  disorders.  In  the  East, 
and  indeed  elsewhere,  rulers  had  a  habit,  not  wholly 
lost  to-day,  of  repressing  such  outbreaks  with  merciless 
severity. 

The  Emperor  quickly  completed  his  arrangements. 
Then  he  drew  Walter  aside. 

"You  spoke  of  Nur  Mahal.  She  is  here,  I  know. 
What  was  her  errand  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  To  warn  me  of  the  plot  of  which  I  was  the  uncon 
scious  figurehead,"  was  the  ready  answer. 

"Her  action  is  the  chief  surprise  of  a  night  of  mar 
vels,"  said  Jahangir,  thoughtfully.  "-No  matter  how 
greatly  I  was  misled  by  others,  I  vow  she  was  candid. 
Never  did  woman  belittle  a  man  as  Nur  Mahal  belittled 
me.  She  said  much  that  was  true,  and  a  good  deal  that 
was  false.  But  her  spleen  was  manifest.  Had  my 
head  rolled  at  her  feet  she  would  have  kicked  it.  W'hy, 
then,  should  she  risk  her  life  to  save  me  ?  " 

"You  must  ask  her  that  yourself,  your  Majesty." 

There  was  no  other  way.  It  was  out  of  the  question 
that  Walter  should  dispel  Jahangir's  doubts  by  hinting 
a  very  different  motive  for  Nur  Mahal's  visit  to  Dil- 
kusha.  Come  what  might  he  had  dissipated  in  her 
mind  the  mirage  of  a  dynastic  struggle  in  which  he 
would  participate  as  her  husband.  The  mere  fact  that 
he  had  so  completely  thrown  in  his  lot  with  the  Emperor 
would  prove  to  her,  if  proof  were  needed,  that  the 
[320] 


The  Great  Mogul 

dream  of  those  memorable  days  which  followed  their 
flight  from  Agra  might  never  be  renewed.  What  would 
she  do?  What  manner  of  greeting  would  she  give 
Jahangir  ?  Who  could  tell  ?  Once  before,  when  ex 
pected  to  marry  the  Emperor,  she  reviled  him.  Not 
half  an  hour  ago  she  said  Jahangir  must  die  before 
dawn.  He  was  not  dead,  but  very  much  alive,  and 
more  firmly  seated  on  his  throne  than  at  any  time  since 
his  accession.  What  would  she  say  ?  Mowbray  was 
on  thorns  as  he  walked  with  the  Emperor  and  Roger  to 
the  house. 

Fra  Pietro  unbolted  the  door  at  which  they  knocked. 
Roger,  seeing  the  Countess  moving  forward,  and  evi 
dently  quite  recovered  from  her  faintness,  was  seized 
with  a  spasm  of  shyness. 

"All  is  well,  Matilda,"  he  said,  hanging  back.  "You 
had  a  boisterous  journey,  but  you  are  in  quiet  waters 
now.  I  go  to  remove  some  marks  of  the  jaunt." 

He  made  to  sheer  off,  but  she  ran  after  him,  brushing 
the  Emperor  aside  in  her  eagerness. 

"Nay,  my  good  Roger!"  she  cried.  "Fra  Pietro 
hath  told  me  all.  I  closed  my  eyes,  and  my  heart 
stopped  beating  when  I  witnessed  that  last  array  of 
dreadful  men.  And  thou  didst  carry  me  in  thy  arms 
as  if  I  were  a  child,  bearing  me  hither  in  safety  through 
a  hostile  army.  Oh,  Roger,  how  can  I  wait  to  thank 
thee!" 

"Calm  thyself,  sweet  Matilda,"  they  heard  him 
growl.  "I'll  have  no  kissing  of  hands,  and  I  cannot 
kiss  thy  lips  in  my  present  condition.  Gad!  I  have 
[321] 


The  Great  Mogul 

more  brains  on  my  clothes  than  in  my  head.  "Well,  if 
naught  else  will  content  thee,  there!" 

In  the  center  of  the  room  stood  Nur  Mahal,  her 
normally  lily-white  face  with  its  peachlike  bloom  wholly 
devoid  of  color,  and  her  wondrous  eyes  gazing  fixedly 
at  the  tall  figure  of  the  Emperor,  who  hesitated  an 
instant  when  Mowbray  motioned  him  to  enter  first. 
Walter's  pulse  galloped  somewhat  during  that  pause. 
He  did  not  know  then  that  while  men  were  dying  in 
hundreds  around  the  gate  and  elsewhere,  the  Franciscan 
had  won  a  wordy  victory  behind  the  locked  doors.  No 
sooner  were  the  Countess's  senses  restored  than  Fra 
Pietro  engaged  the  Persian  Princess  in  a  discourse  which 
quickly  revealed  that  here  were  well-matched  dialecti 
cians.  Pride,  keen  intellect,  consciousness  of  physical 
charm  and  mental  power,  were  confronted  by  gentle 
insistence  on  the  eternal  verities  which  govern  mankind, 
irrespective  of  race  or  climate. 

Neither  palliating  nor  excusing  Jahangir's  excesses, 
the  friar  did  not  hesitate  to  hold  a  mirror  to  the  girl's 
own  faults.  If  she  had  loved  the  prince  why  did  she 
profess  to  hate  the  king  ?  If  the  death  of  her  husband 
so  rankled  in  her  memory  that  the  Emperor,  who  was 
indirectly  responsible  for  it,  was  not  to  be  forgiven,  why 
had  she  gone  back  to  Agra,  instead  of  pursuing  her 
peaceful  voyage  to  Burdwan  ?  Ah,  yes,  he  appreciated 
her  belief  that  other  eventualities  might  happen,  but 
life  was  constituted  of  shattered  hopes,  and  the  one 
eternal,  wholly  satisfying  ideal  was  to  so  order  one's 
actions  that  when  called  to  final  account  one  could 
[322] 


The  Great  Mogul 

truly  say:  "This  I  did  and  thus  I  spoke  because  it 
seemed  to  me  best  for  the  happiness  and  well-being  of 
my  fellow-creatures." 

To  and  fro  flew  the  shuttlecock  of  their  argument,  un 
til  Nur  Mahal,  astonished  and  not  a  little  humiliated  by 
the  singular  knowledge  of  her  inmost  feelings  displayed 
by  this  mild-eyed  man  of  low  estate,  paced  the  long 
room  like  a  caged  gazelle,  and  the  Countess  di  Cabota, 
half  distracted  by  the  distant  sounds  of  murderous  con 
flict,  nevertheless  found  time  to  wonder  what  Fra  Pietro 
was  saying  which  made  the  beautiful  Persian  so  angry. 

The  sound  of  Mowbray's  voice,  the  sight  of  Jahangir 
in  his  company  unattended,  drove  the  passion  from  her 
face.  Her  red  lips  were  slightly  opened  in  mute  inquiry, 
her  fingers  were  entwined  irresolutely,  her  whole  atti 
tude,  so  heedless  was  she  of  the  restraint  that  cloaks 
the  secret  thought,  indicated  a  passive  desire  to  let 
chance  carry  her  which  way  it  willed. 

But  the  glory  of  her  loveliness  was  never  more  mani 
fest  than  in  this  feminine  mood,  and  Jahangir,  a  man 
of  impulse,  was  drawn  to  her  as  steel  to  a  magnet. 

"  You  and  I,"  said  he,  slowly,  "  have  much  to  forget, 
but  you  alone  have  a  great  deal  to  forgive.  Never 
theless,  on  a  night  when  I  have  won  my  kingdom  I  may 
well  be  pardoned  if  I  hope  to  win  my  queen." 

With  that,  he  unfastened  the  samite  over-cloak  he 
wore,  and  took  from  his  neck  a  string  of  priceless  pearls. 
Nur  Mahal  bent  her  proud  head,  and  the  Emperor, 
with  a  laugh  of  almost  boyish  glee,  adjusted  the  shim 
mering  ornament  around  her  throat. 
[323] 


The  Great  Mogul 

She  said  something  in  a  low  tone,  and  it  was  a  long 
time  before  she  looked  up  again.  When  her  eyes  first 
encountered  Mowbray's  they  were  bright  with  repressed 
tears. 

Notwithstanding  these  tender  passages,  and  some 
amusingly  one-sided  episodes  in  the  garden  between 
Roger  and  the  Countess,  for  the  lady  made  him  kneel 
down  whilst  she  washed  his  face,  there  was  little  time 
for  love-making.  Jahangir,  having  joyously  informed 
the  nearest  members  of  his  entourage  that  Nur  Mahal 
was  to  be  treated  as  the  Empress  which  she  would  be 
created  next  day  in  durbar,  began  to  question  Mowbray 
as  to  the  events  of  the  night.  Walter's  task  was  ren 
dered  more  simple  by  the  projected  marriage  of  one 
whom  he  suspected  to  be  the  real  instigator  of  the  whole 
affair.  He  must  perforce  twist  the  narrative  to  show 
the  prospective  Sultana  in  the  best  light,  and  herein,  as 
it  happened,  a  casual  reference  to  Dom  Geronimo  was 
helpful. 

"  I  mistrusted  that  man  from  the  first,"  said  Jahangir. 
"Why  should  he,  a  European,  conspire  against  his 
fellows?  No  beast  of  prey,  unless  it  be  indeed  hard 
pressed,  eats  its  own  kind.  Howbeit,  he  will  trouble 
the  world  no  longer." 

"What  means  your  Majesty?  I  was  told  he  was 
active  in  his  machinations  this  very  day." 

"Yes,"  was  the  cool  reply.     "I  made  use  of  him 

until  my  patience  vanished.     When  you  and  Sainton- 

sahib  proved  him  a  liar,  I  sent  orders  that  a  cow  was  to 

be  slain  instantly  and  the  black  robe  sewn  in  the  skin." 

[324] 


The  Great  Mogul 

"  Sewn  in  the  skin ! "  repeated  Walter,  incredulously. 

"  Yes.  He  will  be  dead  by  the  fourth  watch.  Hus- 
sain  Beg,  a  traitorous  villain  from  Lahore,  whom  I 
caused  to  be  sealed  in  an  ass's  skin,  took  a  day  and  a 
night  to  die,  but  the  hide  of  a  cow  dries  more  speedily." 

Horrified  by  the  fate  which  had  overtaken  the  arch 
enemy  of  his  race,  Mowbray  told  Fra  Pietro  what  the 
Emperor  had  said.  The  Franciscan  at  once  appealed 
for  mercy  in  the  Jesuit's  behalf. 

"Forgive  him,"  he  pleaded,  "as  Christ  forgave  his 
enemies.  You  can  save  him.  Your  request  will  be 
granted.  God,  who  knoweth  all  hearts,  can  look  into 
his  and  turn  its  stone  into  the  water  of  repentance." 

It  was  not  yet  one  o'clock  when  Walter  and  Roger, 
the  latter  glad  of  the  errand  which  freed  him  from 
Matilda's  embarrassing  attentions,  rode  with  a  numer 
ous  guard  to  the  fort,  bearing  Jahangir's  reprieve  for 
Dom  Geronimo. 

There  had  been  no  delay  in  the  execution  of  the 
sentence.  They  found  the  unhappy  priest  already  im 
prisoned  in  his  terrible  environment,  and  almost  insane 
with  the  knowledge  that  the  stiffening  hide  was  slowly 
but  surely  squeezing  him  to  death. 
.  With  Sher  Afghan's  dagger  Mowbray  cut  the  stitches 
of  sheep-sinews,  and,  after  drinking  some  wine  and 
water,  the  Jesuit  fanatic  became  aware  of  the  identity 
of  the  man  to  whom  he  owed  his  life. 

'  'Tis  surely  time,"  said  Walter,  sternly,  "  that  you 
and  I  discharged  our  reckoning.     I  could  have  par 
doned  my  father's  death,  foul  murder  though  it  was,  off 
[325] 


,   The  Great  Mogul 

the  score  of  your  youth  and  zeal.  But  it  is  unbearable 
that  you,  who  preach  the  gospel  of  Christianity,  should 
pursue  with  rancor  the  son  of  the  man  you  killed  with 
a  coward's  blow.  Now,  after  the  lapse  of  twenty-four 
years,  I  have  requited  both  his  untimely  loss  and  your 
continued  malice  by  saving  your  wretched  life.  What 
sayest  thou,  Geronimo  ?  Does  the  feud  end  ?  " 

"On  my  soul,  Walter!"  cried  Sainton,  "I  think  he 
is  minded  to  spring  at  thee  now." 

But  the  glazed  eyes  of  the  unfortunate  bigot  were 
lifted  to  his  rescuer  with  the  non-comprehending  glare 
of  stupor  rather  than  unconquerable  hatred.  He  mur 
mured  some  reference  to  the  miraculous  statue  of  San 
Jose,  to  which,  lying  at  the  bottom  of  the  bay  of  Biscay 
amidst  the  rotting  timbers  of  a  ship  bearing  the  saint's 
name,  he  evidently  attributed  his  escape.  So  they  left 
him,  with  instructions  as  to  his  tendance,  and  rode  back 
to  the  Garden  of  Heart's  Delight. 

All  fighting  had  ceased.  Some  few  Samaritans  were 
tending  the  wounded;  ghouls  were  robbing  the  dead; 
a  mild  rain,  come  after  weeks  of  drought,  was  refreshing 
the  thirsty  earth  and  washing  away  the  signs  of  conflict. 

"  What  kept  thee  so  long  on  the  road  ?  "  asked  Walter, 
when  Roger  confessed  that  the  shower  was  the  next 
most  grateful  thing  to  a  flagon  of  wine  he  did  not  fail 
to  call  for  and  empty  at  the  palace. 

"Gad!  I  was  forced  to  wring  Fateh  Mohammed's 
stiff  neck,"  was  the  unexpected  answer.  "Having  re 
ceived  Jahangir's  orders,  he  held  by  them  as  if  they 
were  verses  of  the  Koran.  The  fat  knave  was  backed 
[326] 


The  Great  Mogul 

by  too  many  arquebusiers  to  assault  him  by  daylight, 
so  I  played  fox,  and  rode  off  in  seeming  temper.  I  and 
the  six  troopers  hid  in  a  nullah  until  night  fell.  Then 
we  spurred  straight  to  Matilda's  tent,  but  Fateh  Mo 
hammed,  to  his  own  undoing,  was  grossly  annoying 
her,  in  that  very  hour,  by  professing  his  great  admira 
tion  for  her  manifold  attractions.  He  was  not  worth 
a  sword  thrust,  so  what  more  was  there  to  do  than  to 
treat  him  as  my  mother  treats  a  fowl  which  she  wants 
for  the  spit?" 

"  What,  indeed  ?  "  said  Walter. 


[327] 


CHAPTER  XIX 

"To  shew  our  simple  skill, 
That  is  the  true  beginning  of  our  end." 

Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  Act  V,  Sc.  1. 

WHEN  they  reached  Dilkusha  they  yet  had  much  to 
talk  about.  During  their  absence  Jahangir  had  de 
parted  with  Nur  Mahal,  entering  the  palace  by  the 
Water  Gate,  so  the  Englishmen  did  not  encounter  the 
royal  cortege.  Worn  out  by  fatigue,  the  Countess  di 
Cabota  was  sound  asleep,  but  Fra  Pietro  awaited  them, 
being  anxious  to  learn  the  fate  of  his  co-religionist. 
He  was  devoutly  thankful  that  Dom  Geronimo  was  not 
dead,  and  his  next  inquiry  dealt  with  the  adventures  of 
Roger  throughout  the  day.  Then  the  lively  record  of 
the  fight  at  the  gate  must  be  imparted,  and  nothing 
would  suit  the  friar,  late  though  the  hour  was,  but  he 
must  go  and  see  the  fallen  elephant,  which,  guarded  by 
a  crowd  of  awe-stricken  natives,  still  cumbered  the 
entrance  to  the  cypress  avenue. 

He  gazed  long  at  the  mighty  brute,  whose  bulk,  as  it 
lay,  topped  a  man's  height.  Then  said  he  to  Sainton : — 

"  At  what  hour,  friend,  didst  thou  attack  the  camp  of 
Fateh  Mohammed  ?  " 

"It  might  be  half-past  eight  of  the  clock." 

"Ah!  You  forced  your  way  in  and  out;  you  rode 
[328] 


The  Great  Mogul 

through  hundreds  of  King's  men  and  rebels,  who  each 
in  turn  sought  to  bar  your  path;  you  fought  here  so 
well  that  not  even  this  monster  could  prevail  against 
you;  nevertheless,  our  worthy  Master  Mowbray  would 
scoff  at  the  special  protection  of  St.  James  which  I 
invoked  for  you  in  the  very  hour  of  your  first  onset." 

"  Gad !  Such  a  serious  speech  hath  a  deep  meaning. 
Walter,  what's  to  do  between  you  and  our  good  friar  ? 
Hast  thou  been  reviling  an  apostle  ?  " 

"Never,  on  my  life,"  laughed  Mowbray.  "When 
my  ears  have  lost  the  sounds  of  strife,  Fra  Pietro,  you 
shall  lecture  me  most  thoroughly  on  my  seeming  lack 
of  faith  in  that  matter." 

"  By  the  cross  of  Osmotherly ! "  vowed  Roger,  "  if  St. 
James  be  so  potent  I'll  down  on  my  marrow-bones  the 
next  time  I'm  'bliged  to  cariy  Matilda  a  mile.  My 
soul!  my  left  shoulder  will  ache  for  a  week  with  the 
strain  of  her  exceeding  shapeliness." 

The  Franciscan  sighed.  They  were  in  no  mood  for 
a  sermon.  The  load  of  care  lifted  from  their  hearts  by 
the  witchery  of  the  night  left  room  for  aught  save  sober 
reflection.  He  must  point  the  moral  another  day. 

When  fortune  buffets  a  man  for  years  she  is  apt,  if 
caught  in  the  right  vein,  to  shower  her  favors  on  him 
with  prodigality.  Jahangir,  wholly  taken  up  in  affairs 
of  state  and  his  wedding  festivities,  did  not  see  his 
English  friends  until  nearly  ten  days  later.  Then  he 
astounded  Walter  with  the  information  that  King 
James  of  England  had  sent  an  Embassy  to  India,  that 
he,  Jahangir,  meant  to  march  to  Ajmere  to  meet  the 
[329] 


Ambassador,  and  that  he  would  esteem  it  a  favor  if 
Mowbray  and  Sainton  would  come  with  him,  the 
journey  being  a  fair  measure  of  the  road  to  Surat. 

But  this  first  surprise  was  sent  spinning  by  the  dis 
covery  that  the  leader  of  the  Embassy  was  Sir  Thomas 
Roe. 

"Does  your  Majesty  know  if  the  Ambassador  hath 
brought  his  sister  ?  "  asked  Sainton,  for  Mowbray  scarce 
knew  how  to  account  for  the  rush  of  color  which  bronzed 
more  deeply  his  well-tanned  face. 

"There  is  no  mention  of  the  lady  in  my  despatches. 
What  of  her?"  inquired  the  Emperor. 

"That  is  a  tale  for  Mowbray-sahib  to  tell,"  said 
Roger  with  a  wink,  and,  indeed,  the  levity  of  his  manner 
towards  the  monarch  then,  and  on  many  other  occa 
sions,  greatly  scandalized  the  punctilious  court  flunkeys. 

Jahangir  seemed  to  be  greatly  pleased  by  the  fact 
that  Walter  regarded  Nellie  Roe  as  his  future  wife. 
Being  a  devoted  husband  himself,  he  naturally  told 
Nur  Mahal,  and  was  astonished  that  she  received  the 
news  with  indifference.  Of  course,  Mistress  Roe  did 
not  accompany  her  brother,  but  she  sent  a  very  nicely 
worded  acknowledgment  of  Walter's  letters,  together 
with  a  small  package,  which,  when  opened,  disclosed  a 
very  beautiful  miniature  of  herself  by  that  same  notable 
artist,  Isaac  Olliver,  who  had  painted  Anna  Cave. 

One  day,  when  Jahangir  and  the  Embassy  were  met 

in  durbar  at  Ajmere,  the  conversation  turned  on  this 

very  art  of  painting  on  ivory,  in  which  the  Delhi  artists 

were  highly  skilled,  and  Sir  Thomas  Roe's  "  Journal " 

[330] 


The  Great  Mogul 

contains  an  effective  sketch  of  the  assembly  to  which  the 
pictures  of  the  two  fair  Englishwomen  (Anna  being  then 
secretly  married  to  Roe)  were  brought  for  comparison 
with  native  products. 

"  When  I  came  in  I  found  him  sitting  cross  legged  on  a  little 
throne,  all  cladd  in  diamondes,  Pearles,  and  rubyes;  before 
him  a  table  of  gould,  on  yt  about  50  Peeces  of  gould  plate  sett 
all  with  stones,  some  very  great  and  extreamly  rich,  some  of 
lesse  valew,  but  all  of  them  almost  couered  with  small  stones; 
his  Nobilitye  about  him  in  their  best  equipage,  whom  hee 
Commanded  to  drinck  froliquely,  seuerall  wynes  standing  by 
in  great  flagons." 

There  was  some  good-humored  dispute  as  to  the 
ability  of  the  Delhi  craftsmen  to  copy  Master  Olliver's 
work,  and  a  bet  was  made,  which  both  Roe  and  Mow- 
bray  discreetly  lost  when  the  originals  were  returned 
with  the  reproductions.  Yet,  the  native  artists  had 
achieved  a  better  result  than  the  Englishmen  expected, 
whilst  Jahangir  was  puzzled  by  his  wife's  eagerness  to 
see  Nellie  Roe's  presentment,  although  she  evinced  no 
curiosity  concerning  her  when  first  he  mentioned  the 
projected  marriage. 

But  the  Emperor,  still  a  wine-bibber  it  is  clear,, 
soon  ceased  to  question  the  why  and  the  wherefore  of 
Nur  Mahal's  actions.  Each  day  of  his  life  he  fell  more 
and  more  under  her  influence.  Soon  he  practically 
made  over  the  government  of  the  state  into  her  hands. 
At  that  time,  especially  during  Mowbray's  continuance 
with  the  court,  she  exhibited  a  restless  activity  which 
found  no  sedative  save  constant  movement.  Devoted 
to  sport,  and  showing  much  skill  in  using  a  gun  which 
[331] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Sir  Thomas  Roe  gave  her,  she  shot  many  tigers  with 
her  own  hand,  and  tigers,  even  at  that  distant  date, 
were  to  be  found  only  in  secluded  jungles. 

A  letter  preserved  in  the  Addlestone  MS,  from  Sir 
Thomas  Roe  to  Sir  Thomas  Smythe,  refers  to  the 
Empress's  passion  for  roaming  in  remote  districts.  "  I 
am  yet  followeing  this  wandering  King,"  he  writes, 
"  ouer  Mountaynes  and  through  woodes,  so  strange  and 
unused  wayes  that  his  owne  People,  who  almost  know 
no  other  God,  blaspheame  his  name  and  Hers  that,  it 
is  sayd,  Conducts  all  his  actions." 

This  same  disturbing  transition  from  place  to  place 
led  to  the  departure,  much  against  her  will,  of  the 
Countess  di  Cabota  to  Bombay.  Her  ladyship  found 
out,  what  was  oft  rumored  in  India,  that  the  Dowager- 
Empress,  Mariam,  mother  of  Jahangir,  was  really  a 
Christian  woman  of  Portuguese  birth.  The  Countess 
met  her,  and  spoke  to  her  in  her  own  language,  and 
the  incident  incensed  the  Emperor,  who  feared  that 
his  claim  to  be  another  Mahomet  might  be  questioned 
by  the  imaums.  Roe,  a  politic  negotiator,  took  ad 
vantage  of  the  hardships  and  difficulties  of  baggage- 
carrying  involved  by  the  daily  breaking  up  of  the 
camp,  to  despatch  the  Countess  to  the  nearest  Portu 
guese  port. 

She  took  leave  of  Roger  with  copious  tears,  and 
wrote  him  long  letters  he  could  not  read,  so  that  Walter 
was  obliged  to  order  his  face  as  he  made  known  her 
loving  messages,  and  heard  Roger  swearing  under  his 
breath  the  while.  Soon  she  sailed  for  Lisbon,  and  the 
[332] 


The  Great  Mogul 

big  man,  thinking  he  would  never  see  her  again,  did 
not  know  whether  to  be  glad  or  sorry. 

Mowbray  naturally  rendered  the  greatest  service  to 
the  English  mission.  The  whole  country  was  thrown 
open  to  British  trade,  special  sites  were  granted  for 
factories,  and,  indeed,  Roe's  embassy  undoubtedly 
planted  in  India  the  seeds  which  have  borne  such 
million-fold  yield.  But  Walter,  to  his  great  relief, 
found  that  Nur  Mahal  avoided  him.  He  seldom  ex 
changed  a  word  with  her,  and  then  only  by  way  of 
formal  politeness.  She  moved  like  a  star,  bright  and 
remote.  The  sole  instances  of  personal  favor  which 
she  showed  him  consisted,  in  the  first  place,  of  the 
redemption  of  the  box  of  diamonds  for  money,  and, 
secondly,  in  urging  him  and  Roger  to  invest  two  thirds 
of  their  capital  in  indigo,  which,  shipped  to  London, 
was  worth  five  times  what  they  paid  for  it  in  India. 

During  an  uneventful  voyage  home,  Roger  often  spoke 
of  his  Matilda,  and  wondered  how  she  fared.  He  was 
sorry  a  gale  blew  them  past  Lisbon,  though  it  hurried 
them  to  the  Downs,  but  his  regret  merged  with  othei 
sentiments  when  he  learned,  by  advices  awaiting  Walter 
from  his  mother,  that  the  Countess  di  Cabota  was 
arrived  in  Wensleydale,  where  she  had  won  much 
popularity,  and  was  a  special  favorite  of  old  Mistress 
Sainton's. 

"Ecod!"  roared  Roger,  when  the  full  effect  of  this 

amazing  intelligence  penetrated  his  big  head,  "that 

ends  it.     I  am  undone!    Between  them  they'll  lead 

me  to  the  kirk  wi'  a  halter,  for  my  owd  mother  ever  had 

[333] 


The  Great  Mogul 

an  eye  for  t'  brass,  and  Matilda  will  have  filled  her  lug 
wi'  sike  a  tale  that  I'll  be  tethered  for  life." 

His  prediction  was  verified.  The  Countess  married 
him  a  week  after  he  reached  Yorkshire.  But  the  only 
halter  she  used  was  the  chain  of  turquoises  and  gold 
which  he  himself  gave  her.  Never  did  man  have  more 
loving  wife.  Her  chief  joy  was  to  find  some  wondering 
listener  while  she  poured  forth  the  thrilling  recital  of 
her  husband's  prowess,  and  her  only  anxiety  was  lest 
his  fighting  instincts  should  prove  too  powerful  to  keep 
him  at  home  during  the  troubled  years  of  the  next 
reign. 

But  her  wealth,  joined  to  his  own  very  considerable 
store,  made  him  a  rich  man  and  a  landed  proprietor. 
Several  little  Saintons,  too,  promised  to  be  nearly  as 
big  as  their  father,  or  as  pretty  as  their  mother,  so 
Roger  stopped  at  Leybum  to  look  after  them,  siding 
with  neither  King  nor  Parliament,  but  making  it  widely 
known  that  he  was  yet  able  to  break  heads  if  anyone 
interfered  with  him  or  his. 

Of  the  wooing  of  Nellie  Roe  by  her  constant  lover 
much  might  be  written  of  vastly  greater  interest  than 
many  things  herein  recorded.  Yet,  such  a  history  is 
neither  new  nor  old,  being  of  the  order  which  shall 
endure  as  long  as  man  seeks  his  mate.  So  they  were 
wed,  in  the  Church  of  St.  Giles,  at  Cripplegate,  and, 
by  one  of  those  pleasant  actions  which  redeem  his 
memory,  King  James  was  graciously  pleased  to  forget 
the  contumacy  of  his  long-lost  subjects.  On  Roe's 
showing  that  Mowbray  had  done  such  good  work  for 
[334] 


England  that  he  well  deserved  the  royal  favor,  the  King 
bade  the  newly-married  couple  invite  him  to  the  wed 
ding,  to  which  he  came  in  great  state.  He  asked  for 
the  Ambassador's  sword,  averted  his  eyes,  nearly  clipped 
Walter's  ear  with  the  blade  in  delivering  the  accolade, 
and  duly  dubbed  him  a  knight.  Here,  also,  the  English 
Solomon  met  Sain  ton.  Though  his  majesty  was  far 
too  sagacious,  in  his  own  estimation,  to  credit  half  he 
was  told  of  the  giant's  performances  at  home  and  in 
the  domains  of  the  Great  Mogul,  he  nevertheless  asked 
Roger  what  he  considered  to  be  his  most  remarkable 
achievement. 

"  Gad ! "  was  the  grinning  answer,  "  though  I  have 
lopped  heads  by  the  score,  and  fought  wi'  strange  beasts 
of  monstrous  size  and  fury,  I  think  the  most  wonderful 
thing  I  ever  did  was  to  get  off  scot  free  when  your 
Majesty  was  ill  disposed  towards  me." 

James  rubbed  his  nose  dubiously.  He  took  thought, 
and  found  that  the  retort  pleased  him.  So  Roger,  too, 
was  ordered  to  kneel,  and  arose,  very  red  and  confused, 
"  Sir  Roger  Sainton,  of  Cabota  Hall,  in  the  County  of 
York." 

A  great  deal  of  water  had  flowed  under  London 
Bridge,  and  under  the  bridge  that  spanned  the  Jumna 
at  Agra  as  well,  when  Sir  Roger  rode  up  the  Vale  of 
Ure  one  day  to  dine  and  sup  with  his  friend  Sir  Walter. 
With  him,  in  a  carriage,  came  Matilda,  Lady  Sainton, 
and  the  special  purport  of  the  visit  was  to  hear  news 
lately  received  from  India. 

Fra  Pietro  had  written,  as  was  his  yearly  custom, 
[335] 


The  Great  Mogul 

giving  them  the  annals  of  life  in  far-off  Agra.  The 
Franciscan  would  not  abandon  his  people,  and  he 
remained  with  those  who  elected  to  settle  in  the  capital 
rather  than  return  to  Hughli.  There,  owing  to  the 
patronage  of  Jahangir  and  Nur  Mahal,  he  established 
a  thriving  colony.  In  course  of  time,  by  teaching  his 
flock  to  eschew  politics  and  stick  to  trade,  he  made  the 
Franciscans  a  greater  power  than  the  Jesuits. 

Divested  of  the  quaint  phraseology  and  varied  spell 
ing  then  in  vogue,  some  portion  of  his  epistle  is  worthy 
of  record. 

"Each  year  it  becomes  more  established,"  he  said,  "that 
the  Empress  rules  in  Jahangir's  name.  Truly  she  is  a  good 
and  wise  woman.  She  hath  effected  a  beneficial  change  in 
his  cruel  disposition,  and  put  a  stop  to  his  savage  outbursts  of 
temper.  Not  only  does  he  drink  less  wine  in  the  daytime, 
but  he  is  ashamed  to  be  seen  by  her  if  his  evening  potations 
are  too  indulgent.  She  still  retains  her  habit  of  going  un 
veiled  among  all  classes,  and,  indeed,  it  would  be  a  wise  re 
form  were  other  women  of  the  country  to  do  likewise,  for  the 
Creator  never  intended  one  half  the  human  race  to  remain 
invisible  to  the  other  half.  Herein,  however,  she  has  failed, 
though  it  is  said,  as  a  quip,  that  were  her  own  features  less 
noteworthy  she  would  not  be  so  free  in  their  exhibition. 

"Nevertheless,  she  is  the  most  accomplished  woman  of  her 
age  and  clime.  She  rules  this  land  with  moderation  and  firm 
ness,  encourages  education  and  good  living,  and  gives  freedom 
to  all  men  to  worship  God  as  seemeth  best  to  them.  I  am  re 
minded,  by  these  last  words,  that  one  who  sought  unfairly  to 
impose  his  will  upon  others,  Dom  Geronimo  to  wit,  died 
recently  in  the  Convent  here.  He  had  been  partly  demented 
for  years,  but  you  will  be  glad  to  learn  that  his  final  hours  were 
peaceful.  His  soul  was  restored  to  consciousness  when  the 
weak  body  failed,  and  he  departed  this  life  sincerely  regretting 
the  excesses  to  which  he  was  led  by  unmeasured  zeal.  Per- 
[336] 


The  Great  Mogul 

haps  I  err  in  judging  him  thus  harshly.  'Wherefore  let  him 
that  thinketh  he  standeth  take  heed  lest  he  fall.'  I  Cor.  x.  12. 

"The  Emperor  kept  his  word  touching  the  record  of  my 
good  Roger's  mighty  deed  in  slaying  the  elephant.  Within  the 
Ummer  Singh  Gate  of  the  Palace  he  hath  erected  another 
gateway  called  the  Hathiya  Darwaza,  or  'Door  of  the  Ele 
phants.'  It  stands  on  the  summit  of  a  steep  slope,  and  bears 
on  its  two  flanking  towers  life-size  models  of  two  elephants, 
one  of  which  has  a  man's  head.  Fra  Angelico,  of  the  Blessed 
Order  of  St.  Francis,  newly  come  here  from  Barcelona,  has  a 
gift  in  painting,  and,  at  my  wish,  he  has  made  two  oil  draw 
ings,  which  I  send  herewith,  one  of  which  shows  the  noble 
design  of  the  structure. 

"  The  other  will  be  equally  foreign  to  your  eyes.  You  will 
scarce  credit  that  the  splendid  marble  edifice  drawn  by  my 
worthy  brother  in  Christ  is  the  tomb  of  Itimad-ud-Daula, 
father  of  the  Empress,  and  erected  by  her  on  the  site  of  the 
house  in  the  Garden  of  Heart's  Delight.  Jahangir  wished 
the  place  kept  as  an  evening  retreat  for  the  days  of  spring 
flowers,  but  Nur  Mahal  would  hear  of  no  other  end  than  the 
monument.  So  there  stands  the  mausoleum,  a  noble  building 
truly,  yet  a  grave.  Who  knows  what  unfulfilled  desires  lie 
buried  with  the  unheeding  bones  of  the  old  Diwan!  I  some 
times  think  the  Empress,  who,  with  all  her  wisdom,  remains  a 
wayward  woman,  was  not  wholly  swayed  by  filial  piety  when 
she  moved  the  remains  of  her  excellent  father  to  that  lovely 
garden.  Once,  by  chance,  I  met  her  there.  She  spoke  to 
me,  and  I  gave  her  such  meager  intelligence  of  my  English 
friends  as  I  possessed.  She  was  pleased  to  hear  that  Roger 
and  you  were  honored  by  the  King.  She  sends  her  greetings. 
Jai  Singh  leader  of  the  body-guard,  also  places  his  turban 
at  your  feet. 

"And,  in  this  connection,  I  am  reminded  of  that  verse  in 
the  XXVth  Chapter  of  Proverbs :  '  As  cold  waters  to  a  thirsty 
soul,  so  is  good  news  from  a  far  country.'  Write  to  me,  there 
fore,  my  good  Walter.  May  it  please  the  Lord  that  these 
presents  shall  find  you  and  yours  in  good  health  and  abound 
ing  in  happiness !  They  tell  me  I  am  growing  gray,  and  thin 
ner  than  ever,  so  assure  me,  I  pray  you,  that  Sir  Roger  is  add- 

[  337  ] 


The  Great  Mogul 

ing  width  to  his  inches  and  thus  adjusting  that  proper  balance 
between  the  extremes  by  which  nature  at  times  leaves  the 
common  level. 

"  It  will  be  of  interest  to  his  lady,  best  known  to  me  as  the 
Countess  di  Cabota,  to  learn  that  recently,  while  on  a  journey 
to  the  Nasirabad  mission,  I  turned  aside  and  visited  the  de 
serted  city  of  Fatehpur-Sikri,  built,  as  you  know,  by  Akbar. 
In  Queen  Mariana's  house  I  found  wall-paintings  representing 
the  Annunciation,  and  other  scenes  in  the  history  of  Our  Lord 
and  His  Blessed  Mother,  thus  proving  that  the  unhappy 
woman,  long  since  dead,  was  an  apostate.  May  she  have 
found  grace  and  repentance  even  at  the  foot  of  the  throne. 
It  would  be  a  great  delight  to  me  if  I  could  win  Nur  Mahal 
to  the  faith.  She  and  Jahangir  are  ready  enough  to  reason 
the  matter,  but  they  remain  obdurate.  I  trust  yet  to  pre 
vail." 

The  Franciscan  then  branched  off  into  such  trading 
information  as  he  thought  might  be  useful  to  them  or 
their  friends  in  the  city  of  London,  and  concluded  by 
expressing  the  hope  that,  if  ever  he  returned  to  Europe, 
they  might  all  meet;  though,  said  he,  "I  expect  little 
more  than  that  my  own  bones  shall  rest  in  the  small 
graveyard  we  have  established  at  no  great  distance 
from  Dilkusha." 

Nellie,  who  had  heard  the  letter  when  it  reached  her 
husband,  listened  to  it  again  while  he  read  it  to  Roger 
and  Lady  Sainton. 

"  What  an  influence  Nur  Mahal  seems  to  exert  on  all 
who  meet  her!"  she  said,  thoughtfully,  when  Walter  laid 
down  the  last  closely  written  sheet. 

"  Aye,  a  witch,  and  a  bonny  one  at  that ! "  muttered 
Roger. 

"  Was  she  really  so  beautiful  ? "  asked  Nellie,  and 
[338] 


The  Great  Mogul 

Walter  felt  that  her  eyes  were  on  him  though  her 
question  was  addressed  generally. 

"She  was  so  beautiful,"  he  said,  caressing  her  fair 
head  with  a  loving  hand,  "  that  once,  when  I  wished  to 
be  complimentary,  I  told  here  there  was  only  one 
prettier  woman  in  the  world,  to  my  thinking,  and  her 
name  was  Nellie  Roe." 

"  Gad !  Was  that  what  you  said  to  her  in  the  field 
of  chick-peas  ?  "  cried  Roger. 

"Some  words  to  that  effect." 

"  But  no  woman  would  take  that  as  a  compliment," 
said  Nellie,  dubiously. 

"  I  could  fashion  no  better  at  the  time,"  he  answered, 
and  he  picked  up  Fra  Angelico's  sketch  of  the  Garden 
of  Heart's  Delight.  The  cypresses  were  there,  and  the 
smooth  lawns,  with  the  white  marble  pavilion  shining 
from  the  green  depths,  whilst  the  artist-friar  had  cun 
ningly  depicted  a  gold  mohur  tree,  in  all  the  glory  of 
its  summer  foliage,  to  cover  one  corner  of  a  tower  where 
the  sheer  lines  were  too  harsh. 

Roger  rose  ponderously,  having  lost  that  ease  of 
movement  which  was  wont  to  be  so  deceptive  when  an 
enemy  deemed  him  slow  because  of  his  size.  He  looked 
over  Walter's  shoulder. 

'  'Tis  a  gaudy  picture,"  he  growled,  "  but  'tis  not  the 
place  I  dream  of  at  times  when  a  pasty  is  too  rich  or 
the  beer  a  trifle  heavy." 

"I  oft  wish  I  had  seen  the  garden  as  you  knew  it. 
Walter,"  said  his  wife. 

"May  the  Lord  be  thanked  your  wish  was  not 
[339] 


The  Great  Mogul 

granted!"  he  said,  drawing  her  nearer  and  kissing  her 
with  a  heartiness  that  was  unaffected.  "  'Twas  no  fit 
habitation  for  you,  Nellie,  or  for  any  Christian  woman. 
Ask  my  Lady  Sainton.  She  knew  it,  only  too  well. 
The  Empress  is  right.  It  was  best  fitted  to  hold  a 
tomb." 

And,  indeed,  while  the  men  went  forth  into  an 
English  rose-garden,  to  indulge  in  the  new  fashionable 
habit  of  smoking  tobacco-leaf,  Matilda  assured  her 
young  friend,  for  the  hundredth  time,  that,  notwith 
standing  the  undoubted  charms  and  barbaric  elegance 
of  the  Persian  princess,  Walter  Mowbray  treated  her 
very  cavalierly.  So,  for  the  hundredth  time,  Nellie 
drove  the  wrinkles  of  thought  from  her  brow,  smiled 
delightedly  when  Matilda  vowed  that  the  man's  face 
on  the  stone  elephant  was  not  a  quarter  as  handsome 
as  Roger  himself,  and  thus  effectually  banished  the  dim 
but  lovely  and  ever  fascinating  wraith  of  Nur  Mahal. 


[340] 


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